The Lonewolf Saga: Episode 2 Body, Mind and Soul
by Corrinth
Summary: Sequel to Frozen Fires. 15 years on, Da'Nela Tharn wonders what became of her one time love. When the call for help arrives, she rushes to his aid, only to find that there is more to his suffering than meets the eye. Can she aid him? R&R please!
1. Reflections

Disclaimer: I own only the Larneians and their planet, the rest belong to paramount and the Star Trek universe. No profit is being made from this, only a mild sense of pride and relaxation.

A/N: A sequel to Frozen Fires, set 15 years later. I hope this will be a story in its own right, with no need to read the original.

**Chapter One: Reflections**

The stars shone proudly down upon her, rewarding her for keeping her fifteen year promise once again. But tonight, as for so many nights, neither their light nor their pride brought comfort to the one time Emperor. In those fifteen, long years, since her love and his friends had brought peace, she had accomplished so much. Not only had, at that time, peace been bought, albeit at the cost of untold thousands, even millions of lives - but she had brought democracy to her people. No longer were the Larneians ruled by a single Emperor, but by a ruling council of seven representatives. The three major cities each had two representatives on the council. The seventh member was a unique individual, with the ability to foresee the future. Her name had long since been forgotten, now she went only by her title. The Oracle of Larnei.

But tonight, Representative Da'Nela Tharn's thoughts rested not on her own people, but on the saviours of her people. The ones who had delivered her people from their warmongering, and then left, without asking for any form of payment. She owed them more than was possible to repay. A fond smile crept onto her jet-black features, a warmth seeped into those reptilian green eyes as she remembered them. The man who had led that crew, Captain Jonathon Archer, but her thoughts strayed continually to his Chief Engineer, the man who had had been her friend and the saviour of her life. Who had been connected to her via the telepathic bond indicative to Larneian females. He had also, for a few precious hours, been her lover. Commander Charles Tucker III, Trip, where was he now?

In her sadness, Da'Nela contemplated the last few treasured moments she had spent with Trip. She had given him a gift, a ring, and now, not for the first time, she wondered if he still kept and cherished that gift as much as she loved the present he had given to her.

"Mother?"

His timing was always perfect. She turned to greet the one she loved most of all in the universe; her son. As he came forward to embrace her, she studied him with the undeniable pride of a mother. He had grown to an inch below her own height of six feet tall. His black hair bore a stubborn badger streak of blonde above his forehead, of which both mother and son were absurdly proud. It reminded Da'Nela of Trip's blonde hair. Ru'Hann Tharn-Tucker was the image of how his father would have been had he been Larneian. In his own uniqueness, Ru'Hann's eyes were not green like others of his people but a deep blue, again reminiscent of Trip. Da'Nela nodded to herself. She hoped that Trip would have been proud of his son.

Ru'Hann regarded his mother with concern. More and more often, she had retreated to this spot, atop the tallest tower. She spent so much time gazing at the stars. He knew that in her heart of hearts, she longed for the return of the father he had never known. It had been worse since Nu'Tenn had died. Nu'Tenn had been Da'Nela's mentor and teacher from birth, her father's closest friend, and even her second in command during the war. He had also been a friend and teacher to Ru'Hann for most of his young life. But two years ago, Death had claimed him and removed him from their midst.

But his mother had never let Ru'Hann fall under the impression that Nu'Tenn or any other Larneian was his father. Ru'Hann knew that he was the son of a hero, and he was as proud of his absent father as any son had a right to be. He understood that his father did not know of his existence, that he could not be with his father, and he loved him no less for it. Or, more precisely, he loved the memory of his father. Those who had met the Commander shared as their memories of him as openly as they could, and Ru'Hann drank in the information like a sponge soaking up water.

"I came to tell you that Eyenon is home. He brought back much with him. Those furs were clearly valuable."

"Then you were right to suggest he take them." Tharn senior nodded sagely. "I will join you and the council for dinner shortly."

"Why don't you come down now?" Ru'Hann tried to insist gently.

"Soon." Da'Nela answered. "Please, son, leave me be for a short while longer."

"Do not get cold. The winds are changing."

"I won't." Da'Nela embraced her son before he turned and left the tower.

Da'Nela sighed as she was left alone again. She had been alone for so long now, so long that it felt as if her very soul was being torn away from her mind and body. Ever since the bond between her and Trip had broken, nearly fifteen years ago. One love replaced by another, but it was not enough. She longed for only one thing, for peace from her pain.

The Great Hall, the main room of what had once been the FireWolf castle and headquarters, was alive and bustling with Larneians and their joyful chatter when Da'Nela entered it. It had changed so much, become a happy place to socialise, instead of having soldiers wolfing down food before retreating to their bunks to snatch what little sleep they could. The same tables, the same chairs, mostly the same people, but the aura of the room had changed beyond belief.

Upon the dais sat other the six representatives, three with their partners, two with their sons. The Oracle sat beside Ru'Hann, the only one of the eleven Larneians to be silent. She was listening intently to Ru'Hann, the child was talking with a concerned frown on his face, glancing up from his goblet occasionally to see the Oracle nod wisely. Finally, the fragile Larneian spoke, and the few words she spoke were enough to silence the boy.

All this Da'Nela had taken in whilst crossing the Great Hall. All around her, her people were rising to their feet and bowing their heads. It was something that even over ten years of democracy had not been able to eradicate from their ways. Even now, in some ways, they still treated her, and her alone, as the Emperor she no longer wished to be. As she rose onto the dais, politeness called for Da'Nela to indicate that they should sit and continue their meals.

"Even now, they would have you as their sole ruler." Representative Eyenon Arens, who had been leader of the Ice Falcon clan after General Gelsar during the last few moments of war and, like Da'Nela, had led his clan into peace, acknowledged a little sourly.

"They long for nothing more than a united voice." Da'Nela observed quietly. "Welcome back, Eyenon."

"Thank you." Eyenon returned. "I must congratulate you. Your son has an eye for quality."

"As does his mother." The Oracle intervened, her eyes sparkling at Tharn brightly. "We must talk, Representative Tharn."

"Gladly."

The Oracle welcomed Da'Nela wordlessly into her basement abode with characteristic grace and mystery. The smell of herbs seemed to ensnare all her senses at once, fogging the mind and forcing the Representative to grope her way to the chair that the Oracle always prepared for her. Once her target had been located, Da'Nela sank heavily into the throne-like chair, an ungainly action compared to the elegance with which the Oracle swept back her cloak and sank delicately onto her cushion. Between them rested a golden tray, upon which was sat a great golden bowl, a lidded jug of silver, and a tripod set over a great, cylindrical candle with three burning wicks.

Silence remained as the Oracle placed the bowl over the flames. From the jug, a liquid of the deepest crystal blue was poured into the bowl, and the jug set aside. After only moments, the liquid began to hiss and bubble, producing a thick, choking blue smoke that filled the room in seemingly no time at all. The Oracle quickly extinguished each flame between thumb and index finger. With an air of secrecy, as if Tharn herself should not have been there, the Oracle cupped her hands into the rising steam and inhaled a large amount of the thick smoke.

All of this Tharn had seen many times before. She had become to rely of the advise of this Larneian that was so fragile in frame and stature that it seemed as if the slightest breath of wind would snap her in half. She stood so much shorter than any other Larneian, at only five feet tall, and her emaciated body was merely one sign of the strains her profession placed upon her. The difference was, since being freed from Gelsar's service, the Oracle made her own decisions and carried out her practice only when it was deemed necessary by either herself or the forces she read. Her health had returned and her skin was now the same glossy jet-black true to the Larneian race, instead of the deathly grey it had been when the two women had first met.

And so it was no surprise to Tharn when the Oracle began to rock gently backwards and forwards, and finally four green eyes locked in a private battle which neither woman could win.

"Your future is clouded to me."

Whatever Da'Nela had expected, it was not that. In the fifteen years that the Oracle and Da'Nela had been associates, only once before had the most powerful Larneian on the planet admitted that she had not or could not foresee something. The Oracle had always seemed so sure of her abilities, what had changed?

"I sense your loneliness, your desire for companionship… I sense conflict within you. But where you go from here, I do not know."

Da'Nela said nothing. If the Oracle had expected to give Da'Nela some miraculous advice or a cure for her loneliness, she had failed to provide anything. Somewhat disappointed, Tharn watched as the Oracle inhaled another handful of smoke.

"An old friend is lost."

"Which friend?" Tharn asked urgently. A frown flashed across the Oracle's face as she reached for an answer.

"I do not know. Souls rest on minds, minds are drawn from bodies. For some it is already too late…"


	2. Living In Dreams

**Chapter Two: Living In Dreams**

"For some it is already too late…"

Those words had haunted the days, dreams and nightmares that had passed since the predictions of the Oracle. Time was passing all too quickly, and Da'Nela knew that someone, somewhere needed her help. But she was still no closer to finding out which old friend was lost, and what Tharn herself could do about it. If it was someone on her planet, then she could help. Someone in a nearby star system, it was possible. But deep down, Da'Nela knew that the old friend was bound to be one of the Enterprise crew, whom she had no idea if they even still lived, let alone where there were.

Did Enterprise still roam the universe, searching for new worlds and new peoples? Or had they long ago returned to their planet - Earth - and given up their space-faring in return for a sheltered, safe existence? She did not know. The stars shone down on her, the Lords of the Hunting Grounds looking down upon their protégées with the pride of fathers, but not one gave her any indication as to which star lent its light and strength to Earth and possibly her friends.

When the telepathic bond between Trip and Da'Nela had been broken, their essences and thoughts torn apart by the distance between them and the writhing pain and exhaustion of Da'Nela giving birth to their son, Da'Nela knew that Trip still lived. She doubted that he knew the same was true of her, for she had come so close to death. He knew not of their son, for she had always hidden her pregnancy every time his consciousness had reached to touch hers. Likely, he had mourned her death and did not know that now she stood staring up at the millions of stars, at the tears of the High Lord, wondering if it was he that needed help.

"But I shall take a moment, every evening, to look at the stars, for the light they give is the peace and strength that your crew brought to my people; it is the peace that you brought to me."

His embrace was full of everything she had tried to convey to him with her words; peace, strength, acceptance, but most of all release. In their hearts, however much it pained them, they were letting the other one go. At least, that was how the scene should have played out. But now, as he kissed her, she felt there was something wrong, something amiss. But she could not resist returning the kiss, feeling his warmth against her, his strong arms holding her so close.

"Trip…"

"At last," he murmured softly, nuzzling her neck, "at last I am free to love you again."

"I don't understand."

"You will."

Da'Nela woke hurriedly, transfixed by the vividness of the dream. So clear was it that she half expected to wake up with Trip beside her. Crestfallen that it was not so, she rose to dress. There was only one person who could answer her questions.

"I have been expecting you."

If Tharn's mood had been any lighter, she would have smiled at the classic greeting the Oracle gave before Da'Nela could in any way announce her presence. Today, the basement smelled of spices, rich and pungent. Relieved that the scent in no way assaulted her, Da'Nela entered with caution. Already, the Oracle was preparing spiced tea for them both. Da'Nela accepted her a goblet without protest. She knew it would help.

"Dreams." The Oracle muttered, more to herself than to Tharn. "Always dreams. If only I could dream…"

"You don't dream?"

"Not don't, can't." The Oracle snapped irritably. "Sit down, child."

Startled, and a little irked by the Oracle's tone, Da'Nela did as she was bid. She disliked it when anyone called her 'child'. It had been a term of fondness used by Nu'Tenn, he was the only one who had ever used it. The Oracle seemed oblivious to her companions annoyance, however, and continued to mutter away to herself for several moments as she searched her bookshelves.

"Why must you seek answers to questions that should not have been asked yet?" The Oracle spoke again, her tone not quite apologetic.

"A certain human once told me 'There's no time like the present'."

"Humans." The Larneian retorted darkly, never looking up from her bookshelves.

"The saviours of our world, our people."

"We could have brought about negotiations by ourselves."

"You said to me, fifteen years ago, that the negotiations saved you life. They were not my idea, but Captain Archer's."

The Oracle turned and stared at Da'Nela, green eyes narrowed. It was a fact that had never crossed her mind before. So, it was Archer, the Captain of Enterprise, who had saved her life. The debt would have to be paid.

"I cannot answer your questions." The Oracle announced sometime later after pouring through many books. "The answers will come, in time, through means unexpected."

Time. Answers would come in time, time which an old friend did not have, if the Oracle's words spoke the truth. Da'Nela longed to question her further, but the subject was as closed as the books that were piled on the table, ready to be returned to their shelves. Staring around the basement, Da'Nela took in the great distillery which consumed so many resources to produce that precious crystal-blue liquid, the shelves of books upon books, the pots of herbs, spices, and things Tharn really didn't want to think about.

The mysteries surrounding the Oracle had always confused Da'Nela. Even scared her. She longed for a peaceful life, had always longed for it, and at one point, she had thought that that peace could be attained. But now, as the predictions foretold, a friend was to send her spinning into troubled times again. Would there ever be a time when the world stopped spinning, when time itself stood still, and allowed Da'Nela the moment of peace she so craved?

"Are you prepared to give up everything you have?"

The question brought Da'Nela out of her reverie. And what a question! "Why must I give everything up?" She asked softly, warily. The Oracle, sipping her second goblet of spiced tea returned the cautious gaze steadily.

"I did not say must. I asked if you were prepared."

"It depends."

"On what?"

"The situation, the person or people involved. I would give everything, even my life, for my son, I must consider him first."

The Oracle nodded sagely. Although she did not know or understand exactly what was to come, she knew deep down that her friend was in for a time of difficult decisions. But, for now, there was nothing to be done. The LoneWolf of Larnei would rise to the challenge placed before her, but the final question was, would she and all concerned come through it alive?

"Help me!"

"Trip!"

Her scream echoed through the ravine, reverberating and quietening with every call. His hand was so close, yet so far from reach. She inched her body closer to the edge, reached further down. Behind her, someone laughed tauntingly, but Da'Nela paid her no heed. She had to save him, he could not fall, not now.

"I'm falling!"

"Take my hand!"

The laugh broke forth again, and this time Da'Nela glanced round to see who could so laugh at this terrible scene. A woman stood there, formless and featureless, but somehow Da'Nela knew with some basal, feminine awareness, that it was a woman. The figure smiled evilly. "He is mine now." Da'Nela frowned, wriggly further forward and reaching further down. It was not far enough.

"I can't reach!"

"TRIP!"

The scream ripped through her as he slipped away from her, his eyes boring into hers even as he fell into the deep dark depths of the ravine. Her hands clapped to her ears so she would not hear the sickening thud as his body hit the floor of the chasm. Then, blissfully, there was nothing but the numbness of complete and utter shock. From somewhere in the depths of that emptiness, that same voice echoed the words "He is mine now."

"You shall not have him!"

"Representative?" The boy who had been trying to wake her staggering back from Tharn, terrified by the shriek that had erupted from the Representative straight into his face.

Tharn took in a very shaky breath. She swallowed carefully, forcing saliva down beyond the great lump in her throat. Now was not the time to contemplate her dream. The boy clearly wanted something. She took a few more deep breaths, steadying her nerves again.

"What is it child?"

"Representative Ra'Kaan requests your presence in the observation room." The boy informed her nervously. "He insisted he would not wake you if it was not urgent."

"Thank you." Tharn rose from her bed. "You may go."

Da'Nela hurried through the corridors, quiet at this time of night. She wondered what Ra'Kaan was doing in the observation room at this hour. As she entered the room, she saw five heads bent over some readings.

"You sent for me?" Da'Nela asked lightly, attracting their attention.

"There's a ship in orbit. They're requesting to be allowed to transport three crew members down."

"Who are they?"

"It's Enterprise."


	3. A Friend In Need

**Chapter Three : A friend In Need**

When, for the first time in ten years, Jonathon Archer had set foot in this ready room, he couldn't believe how unchanged the place was. A few bits and pieces had, but for the most part, nothing was different. One thing caught his eye. The picture of himself and Trip, each with an arm flung round the others shoulders and both grinning from ear to ear, had been replaced with a picture of his own senior crew, all looking remarkably serious. That picture had been taken so long ago now.

Right now, the whole scene seemed to be the wrong way round. He should have been the one behind the desk, not sat on this side staring out at the stars. But he had given up command of Enterprise ten years ago to accept his Admiralcy and take a desk job back on Earth. And he had given Enterprise up to a wonderfully skilled and loyal Captain, the one sat opposite him now.

"You still think this is a waste of time, don't you?" He asked Malcolm Reed.

"We've come all this way to find a woman that Trip was certain had died." Reed shot back. "And now, because hers was the last name he uttered, we come traipsing half way across the quadrant to find her. Or her grave."

"What else would you have us do?"

"Stay by his side." Malcolm returned, a little brusquely. "If he dies while we're on this foolish mission, we'll never forgive ourselves."

In all the time Archer had known him, Reed had lost none of his pessimism. It irked the Admiral that Malcolm should be so against this mission and yet still be prepared to captain Enterprise. He opened his mouth to say so, but someone else got in first.

"And could you forgive yourself if you sat and did nothing sir?" Commander Travis Mayweather, Enterprise's first officer and still-occassional pilot, asked quietly but stoutly. The youngest of the three men by far, Travis had always had a quiet faith and belief the men he was proud to call his friends. "At least this way, we're doing what he wanted."

"Wants." Reed corrected, mollified by Travis' devotion to Trip. "He's not dead yet."

"True." Archer murmured, grateful for Travis' stout words.

The three men sat in silence for a while, each man thinking his own thoughts. To Travis, this journey was, simply, a necessity. To Jon Archer, it was a matter of honour. Trip needed an old friend, and so to fetch an old friend he would go. To Malcolm Reed it was foolishness. If they knew for a fact that the person they searched for was alive - which, in truth, they were close to knowing the exact opposite - then it would not be so pointless. As it was…

"At least T'Pol and Hoshi are with him." Travis' words broke into Reed's thoughts. "He isn't alone."

"And Doctor Phlox is taking care of him." Jon nodded. He seemed to be speaking more to himself than to the others, as if by saying the words aloud, they would convince him that they were right. "He's in the best possible hands."

"And your wife doesn't mind you running half way to the end of the universe to find this woman that Trip was so madly in love with?" Reed asked a little acidly.

"T'Pol understands." Archer smiled lovingly as he thought of his wife. "In her own Vulcan way, she's very fond of Trip." Reed smiled at that, but soon enough their conversation was interrupted.

"Bridge to Captain Reed."

"Go ahead."

"We've entered orbit around Larnei."

Travis piloted the shuttle, leaving Archer and Reed to try to relax in the rear. They had not been so impolite as to ask over the comm. if Tharn still lived. They had known other Larneians on the planet. For now, their visit would seem a social call, one made simply because they were passing the system.

Not one of them felt inclined to speak. At first, halting, necessary conversation was apparent between them, but after going on twenty years of serving together, the three did not need words to convey their ideas. As Travis completed the landing procedure, Archer found himself holding his breath. Could Da'Nela save Trip? Was she even alive to attempt it?

"After you." Reed had thrown open the hatch, glimpsed a large welcoming committee of Larneians.

"Thanks." Archer retorted. He climbed out of the shuttle into the daylight, waiting until the others had joined him before proceeding. At least it was a better arrival for the landing party than last time, although Archer, Reed and Travis had not been part of the very first landing party to arrive on Larnei.

He did not recognise a single member of the group of six Larneians waiting to greet them. They wore civilian clothes now, not armour as he had absurdly expected. When Enterprise left, they had begun a time of peace. Archer hadn't stopped to think, for a long time now, as to whether peace still reigned. Their jet-black faces were so impassive, and even their green eyes gave nothing away. The fact that females and males were so alike made it difficult to decipher who was who.

All three men were taken by surprise as each member of the party bowed his or her head so solemnly, without even uttering a word. It was a mark of respect, a mark accentuated by the sombre air between these two peoples. At last, one member of the Larneian group stepped forward.

"Welcome back, heroes of Larnei."

Malcolm opened his mouth to protest, but from the reverent looks on the reflective faces, he knew any objection would fall on deaf ears. With a glance at the Admiral, Malcolm quickly followed Travis' lead in returning the inclination of the head. To not do so was impolite. He wished he could recognise a member of the welcoming committee.

"Thank you." He offered instead. "It's good to be back. Our visit should not have waited this long."

Jon and Travis added nods, echoing Malcolm's sentiments. Still, the Larneians said nothing, instead staring intently at their guests. Were they expecting something of them? Travis wondered. He racked his brains for names that might match with faces, but none came. He remembered only one name.

The one who had greeted them finally came right up to them. And as the corners of her mouth twitched, lighting up her face, Archer suddenly recognised the woman they had come all this way to find. He reached out to shake her hand.

"Da'Nela." He smiled softly, relief flooding through him.

"You're alive!" Malcolm exclaimed, then realised the absurdity of his statement and blushed furiously.

"Very much so." Tharn nodded, releasing Archer's hand. "Although I know why you would think I was deceased. Please, allow me to introduce the other Representatives. You may remember Eyenon Arens, and Foll Ra'Kaan. This is Representative Drey, Ta'Non, and Hamb. And of course, the Oracle of Larnei."

Archer recounted the group as the Oracle stepped out from behind the group as she was presented. Seven Larneians. He wondered what function a Representative had, and why Da'Nela had not introduced herself as Emperor. Clearly though, things had moved on much further than he had expected in the last fifteen years.

"Come inside. It is cold out here, and there is much to discuss."

"Thank you." Archer responded gratefully.

"Why isn't Commander Tucker with you?"

The question each human had been expecting from Da'Nela ever since the moment they had found out that she was alive had been a surprisingly long time coming. But it had waited until the four of them were alone together, sitting by the fire in the empty Great Hall, drinking spiced tea.

"Trip - Captain Tucker - is the reason why we've come." Archer began, floundering in the emotion he felt. He glanced towards his companions for some help.

"He's ill." Travis continued as gently as he could. "Very ill. And no one knows what's wrong."

"It started out like a fever. A burning temperature, shivering…" Reed offered. "It cleared up, and we thought he had just had the flu or something."

"And then his mind started to wander." Archer rejoined haltingly. "He couldn't keep track of a conversation, he kept saying the oddest things at appalling times…"

"His eyes were the worst." Travis shivered as he remembered paying a visit to his friend in hospital. "They were so cold, so distant."

"Then, one day, he grabbed hold of me and yelled your name at me." Archer interrupted Travis, wanting to get to the point of their story. "At first, I didn't understand. I had, to be frank, forgotten about you. But he did it again and again, visit after visit, and then I remembered. When I told him I would come and find you, he whispered your name again, and then just…"

"It was like his soul let go of his body." Reed finished.

Da'Nela took a sharp intake of breath, despite the fact that she had been expecting it. Until that moment, she had remained impassive, letting the humans talk. So Trip was the old friend, as she had known all along. But to hear Malcolm utter those words brought back the words of the Oracle; ' Souls rest on minds, minds are drawn from bodies.' She had to go to him, but…

"And you think there is something I can do for him?"

"You were telepathically linked to him, were you not?" This was Archer.

"Yes, but the link was severed nearly fifteen years ago. It cannot be reformed."

"T'Pol believes the link can be reformed with the aid of a Vulcan mind-meld, she believes that his consciousness can be returned to his body, if you are willing to try?"

"He is aboard Enterprise?"

"No. He's back on Earth."

"Earth?" The shock hit Tharn like a rock fall. They had come all this way only to take her back to their planet? It made no sense. But of course, as thoughts skidded unheeded through her mind it did. Trip's condition was worse than even she had imagined.

The image of him falling away from her, descending into that great, open ravine, shot through her mind. But to leave her home, her friends, her son, for an untold length of time…..


	4. Choices

**Chapter Four: Choices**

To Travis, it seemed oddly right that she should be buried here, so close to where she had given her life. As he gazed down at the cairn of rocks, permitting the waves of sombre feelings wash over him, he wondered if that was what she had expected. To die in the line of duty and be buried on this distant planet. It was the fate he hoped for himself one day. Nikki Leighton had been such a bright character, bringing life and soul to the crew of Enterprise in her short career. And for fifteen long years…

Fifteen long years, to be buried in the cold, hard ground of this far flung planet. Jon knelt beside the cairn to lay a single flower and a piece of paper on the cairn. He secured them beneath a rock, feeling such a terrible shame that he had not been a better Captain to the young crewman. If only they had not visited Larnei, if only he had led that first away team himself… but there was little point in resting on the 'What ifs' of a past long since dead and buried. What was done was done, and if there had been no visit to this planet then Trip would have no chance of living now.

Malcolm resisted the urge to stamp his foot in his impatience. Their duty here was done. They had delivered a message from parents to their daughter as promised. The time to return to their friend's side was now, while he still lived to be saved. While the death of Leighton had hit many crew members hard, and while he knew it gave Da'Nela a chance to think through the magnitude of their request, Malcolm couldn't bring himself to dwell on the past. Not this past anyway. What was important to him was the life of his friend hanging so carelessly in the balance, which could be tipped so easily one way or the other by the heart of this woman with which Trip had shared a bond.

"Do you suppose she's happy?" Travis asked softly, still staring at the cairn. As Malcolm shifted his gaze to the Commander at his side, Travis could have so easily been a child experiencing death for the first time. "Do you think that she's here, somewhere, watching us, or somewhere…better?"

Suddenly Malcolm was filled with shame. The Captain of Enterprise cowered inwardly, saw what Travis was thinking. Was there a life after death? A better place? Somewhere that called to Trip, prepared for his arrival… Those thoughts made his head reel, and send the blood pounding in his ears as his face began to turn red at his tactless thoughts towards their old crewmate. He hoped that, wherever she was, she would forgive him.

And so it was Jon that laid a hand on Travis' shoulder, a silent comfort for his friend. Admiral Archer no longer, the elder of the three was as cowed as they. Their thoughts remained unspoken as Jon turned Travis back to the small transport module where Representative Ra'Kaan and a young lad waited patiently. In some ways, Malcolm was right. It was time to turn their thoughts and actions back to those that waited for their return. With or without Da'Nela Tharn.

"I cannot go."

Tharn frowned at the Oracle impatiently. She could not do this thing alone. She had not the knowledge nor the skill to bring him back. Though she had requested from Archer and the others a little time to think, her mind had been made up even before the humans had arrived. To Earth she would go, but to go alone… Da'Nela had no idea what she would find there, and what, by the Lords, was a Vulcan mind-meld?

"Can't, or won't?"

"Think about it." The Oracle snapped back, just as sharply. "The council loses one member, who can be replaced. But two? No. And I…"

"You make it sound like I'm never coming back." Da'Nela shot at her. To this, the Oracle simply gazed at her impassively, without comment. Unnerved by this, Da'Nela offered another comment. "But what is the problem with a bit of political discord for a man's life, nay a hero's life?"

The Oracle turned her back on Tharn to pull back the great curtain sheltering the room from the midday sun. As Da'Nela recoiled from its brightness, the Oracle made a satisfactory sound. She gestured out into the heat of the day, pointing to the sun.

"There is my power. With the Lords of the Hunting Grounds that guard our planet. This planet alone, Da'Nela Tharn, no other." She loosed the curtain, and the room instantly returned to its original light. Waiting until their eyes became once more accustomed to it, the oracle smiled patiently. "I cannot go, for outside this world, my powers are useless."

Tharn digested this piece of news in silence. She had never considered that her friend's abilities would depend on her location. And now she understood why the Oracle had always declined to go trading with herself and the others. As their eyes met, Da'Nela saw that the Oracle had no pride in revealing her secret.

"I can give you books to read, a selection of herbs and spices that I think may prove useful - you will have to read on their uses, there is no time now…" The Oracle was already leaving the room and heading for her basement. Da'Nela followed her, for she was still talking, and Tharn found herself dropping back into her General ways, absorbing every detail as if the Oracle were a Sergeant delivering a vital report.

In what seemed like no time at all, a great stack of books had appeared on the table in the Oracle's room. Da'Nela found herself gawking at it in wonderment at the size of it. The journey to Earth would last three weeks, not three months! But the Oracle was busy gathering candles and small pots, talking animatedly as she did so. "Now this one, use it only in tiny…"

"I can't do this alone." Da'Nela bust out suddenly. The Oracle turned in surprise.

"Not for nothing were you born the LoneWolf of the Oracle." She told her companion softly. "You are the warrior, Shining Claw, not I, and it is not healing your friend requires."

The boy regarded his mother with a mix of excitement and trepidation. He saw her own fear, and instinctively knew it had something to do with the humans that had arrived that morning. She still had that distant look in her eyes that she had gained so many months ago, but there was an air of confusion in it. He reached out to embrace her.

"But why the urgency? Why must we leave tonight?"

"Your father is ill.."

"Ill? Will he be alright?"

Tharn held her son close. It communicated more to him than words ever could. This could be the last chance he ever got to meet his father. There was so much he wanted to learn from the man who had sired him, so much about a whole half of his heritage that he had yet to see and understand. And all his life he had longed to set eyes on the man who had stolen his mother's heart and still invaded her thoughts and memories. It was time that longing was fulfilled. He understood the urgency and accepted it quietly.

"I'll go and pack."

"Thank you." She replied gratefully. She was glad that she would not be alone on this journey. She had not doubted that her son would join her on this journey, but the boy was of age now, old enough to have to be asked rather than told. She went to finish packing her own things.

The relief on the faces of the humans was plain as the entered the Great Hall to see Da'Nela stood with three bulging packs at her feet. The Oracle was there too, and a young Larneian, also with a pack at his feet. All three frowned at that, but none of them cared to query it.

"I took the liberty of inviting someone to join me, I hope you will forgive my rudeness."

"Of course." Captain Reed offered, stepping up to shake Ru'Hann's hand. "Have we met?"

"No." Da'Nela answered for her companion. "May I introduce Ru'Hann Tharn-Tucker. My son."

"Your son?" Archer repeated numbly.

"Tharn-Tucker?" Reed asked, stunned.

"Trip's son?" Travis' jaw dropped open.

Mother and son smiled at their reactions, and it was as he smiled that the humans saw that there could be no doubt as to his father's identity. The blue eyes, the blonde badger streak, the cheeky grin. If the skin hadn't been jet-black, and the eyes a lot smaller, it could have been Trip himself standing there.

"Trip will want to see his son, I'm sure." Jon offered quietly to Ru'Hann. "You are most welcome to join us, Ru'Hann."

"I look forward to meeting him myself." Ru'Hann responded softly.

The shock of meeting their friends offspring had settled Reed and Travis into a somewhat uncomfortable silence. They merely nodded their agreement, and Travis offered the young man a smile. He came forward to pick up one of Da'Nela's loads, and then turned as the Oracle addressed them proudly.

"The time has come." She said. "Good luck go with you all, and may the stars guide you safely to your destination, and the Lords bring your friend safely home."

As, minutes later, the shuttle rose from Larnei into the vastness of space, both Da'Nela and Ru'Hann gave an appreciative sigh. It was beautiful. And there, creeping onto the viewscreen, was Enterprise herself. In itself her hull had not changed, only now the engines were twice the size that Da'Nela remembered. It made her more impressive, not less, and mother and son shared a sense of awe as the ship loomed closer.

"She runs to warp seven now." Travis informed them proudly. "And we've even pushed her as fast as seven point five."

"Seven times the speed of light." Ru'Hann muttered in wonder. "She handles well?"

"Definitely. Smooth as a baby's behind and light as a feather." Travis glanced back as Ru'Hann. "You ever thought about being a pilot?"

"I can fly our ships." The boy responded, sounding a little disappointed. "But they are only capable of Warp one."

"May I can teach you to fly her, if you're a fast learner?" There was a note of challenge to his tone.

"Fast enough." Ru'Hann retorted, going forward to peer over Travis' shoulder at the controls.

Da'Nela smiled, relieved that her son was getting on so well with Travis. She hoped that he would make other friends aboard Enterprise so quickly, for she knew her time aboard Enterprise would be spent pouring over books and in deep conversations with Archer and Reed.

As the shuttle sailed lithely into the docking bay, Reed put a comm. call through to the Bridge. The moment the docking bay doors were fastened, Enterprise slid into warp speed. There was virtually no change in the feeling of movement, and silently, Da'Nela urged Enterprise to carry them quickly and speedily towards Earth.

Ru'Hann, climbing out of the shuttle, looked forward to seeing Earth and a whole new half to his heritage. The thought of it overwhelmed him, astounded him. He gazed around as they were shown to their quarters. This was going to be an amazing journey.


	5. The Journey

**Chapter Five: The Journey**

Da'Nela looked up from her book and glanced at the clock. 03:00. These books had been more absorbing than she'd anticipated, but she still had no idea what a Vulcan mind-meld was. She resolved to ask Captain… Admiral Archer in the morning. He would know - he was married to T'Pol after all. Of all the things she'd expected, it had taken her by surprise to find out that Archer and T'Pol had wed. That thought set her to wondering if Trip had a wife…

She put the book down, after carefully marking the page about the trance-inducing Larneian Slime Weed. Chewed slowly, it would bring on a meditative trance, but only if the user had neither eaten nor drunk anything for three days. If swallowed, it could kill a Larneian in seconds, and there was no antidote. Personally, she was of the opinion that it would be dehydration and hunger, plus a mild dose of toxins, that induced the trance. But the thought of chewing on a slimy weed was enough to make her grimace, let alone the fact that swallowing it could kill her.

The first night had been a quiet one. The two guests had enjoyed a quiet meal with Admiral Archer, Captain Reed and Commander Mayweather, and the topic of Trip lying on his death bed had not come up. The second night, while Ru'Hann shared a meal with Travis and then a detailed tour of Enterprise, Da'Nela had sat down to have an in-depth talk with Archer and Reed.

"You understand that I have never done this sort of thing before?"

Malcolm sat back, hands nursing a mug of tea. He regarded her carefully, obviously thinking about his reply. Jon was clearly waiting for the more pessimistic of the two to field this question. Da'Nela waited too, wondering if she'd made a miscalculation in asking the question.

"Trip believes in you." The Captain answered finally. "At first, we thought his calling your name was just another insane rambling brought on by his condition. We were, after all, sure you were dead."

"We will come to that later. But first of all, what is his condition?"

Malcolm explained it succinctly. Whilst on a mission aboard his ship, the Lupus, Captain Tucker had received a distress call from a vessel that had supposedly been attacked by Klingons. The lone pilot had turned out to be a telepathic woman who had tried, and failed, to persuade Trip that he belonged with her on her ship. Shortly afterward, the Lupus had returned to Earth, bearing one very sick Captain Tucker. His friends had been recalled to Earth at Trips screaming demands.

"The easiest way to placate him was to tell him people were on their way." Reed finished hesitantly. "He would be fine then, until he started calling for someone else."

"He lost motor functions in his limbs, began fading in and out of consciousness." Jon added quietly. "T'Pol - using a Vulcan mind-meld - said it was like his mind, his soul was being drawn away from his body."

Da'Nela shook her head sadly. Everything was as the Oracle had predicted. She just prayed that Trip was not one of those for whom it was already too late…

Since that night, Da'Nela had spent most of her time buried in the mound of books that the Oracle had lent to her. There was such a vast array of knowledge in them. She wondered whether the Doctors had used the Denchen herb whilst she was in labour. She doubted it - otherwise she would not have come so close to death. She knew now that a pinch of Alka, the bark from a spruce tree, infused as a mug of tea, would send her to sleep for a day and a night, but she had no such time for rest.

"Archer to Tharn." The comm. call was practically whispered, quiet so as not to wake her if she was asleep.

"Tharn here." She responded just as quietly, an instinctive reaction.

"You awake?"

"Yes. You?" Tired, she decided quickly, realising the stupidity of the question.

"Yes." His voice had risen in volume. "I was wondering if we could talk for a while."

"Of course."

"I'll meet you in the Captain's Mess in a few minutes." Malcolm wouldn't mind, and there were a few things on his mind.

"I'll be there. Tharn out." It was amazing, she noted, how quickly she had fallen back into the regime of things like comm. calls and duty shifts. Not that she had a specific duty on Enterprise, but she rose with the day time duty shift, ate with them in the morning and evening, and usually slept when they did… except tonight.

Archer paused outside the door long enough to straighten his T-shirt nervously. Though this would not be a particularly awkward conversation, he was uneasy about asking Da'Nela questions that should really be asked by Trip. He hoped that she would give him some answers. He reached for the door release and the door slid aside with its characteristic hiss. Da'Nela was already there, staring out at the stars streaming by as Enterprise carried them speedily towards Earth.

"Morning." He greeted her as she turned.

"Hello." She responded softly. He could see she was uncomfortable. There was only one solution he knew of to calm both of them. He went over to a panel on the wall and pushed hard in the top right hand corner. To Da'Nela's amazement, the panel slid aside to reveal a neat little cubby hole, just large enough for a bottle and two glasses.

"I had Trip install this before Enterprise left space dock for the first time." He informed her quietly. "I don't think Malcolm even knows it exists. Only Trip and I do. And now you."

"Your secret is my secret." She smiled a little, blinking long silver eyelashes at him. She took it upon herself to pour a drink for each of them whilst he closed the panel again. It fell into place with a satisfying clunk and Archer stared at it, obviously lost in memories.

A few moments later, Jon turned suddenly, as if remembering that he was not alone. He accepted a glass of bourbon and raised it in toast. "To Trip." He offered quietly. Da'Nela simply inclined her head, accepting the gesture in silence. They sat quietly, each lost in their own thoughts and sipping their drink. It was only when Archer reached for the bottle to top up their glasses that he spoke again.

"I was wondering if you would mind answering a few questions." He told her, placing the bottle back on the table. She knew how uncomfortable he was from the fact that he would not meet her eyes. "There are some things I still don't understand."

"If I can answer your questions, I will." She promised gravely.

He smiled his thanks and sat back, trying to relax. "Perhaps you could start by telling me why the bond between yourself and Trip was broken?" He watched then as she stared down at the glass in her hands, eyes glazing over as she sank into memories.

"A simple answer." She began slowly. "When I went into labour, I was fighting to keep my pain from Trip. I did not want him to know of the pain, since he did not know its cause. When I faded out of consciousness, my mind reached out for him, but the stress of the labour and the distance between us caused the connection to snap like a rope stretched too far."

Da'Nela already knew what his next question would be. She spoke on, of how she had hidden the pregnancy from Trip because she did not want him to miss the son she had never expected him to meet. How she did not wanting him returning to Larnei because honour demanded he be a father to his son. It was not fair. She was not sure if her tiredness or the alcohol loosened her tongue, but the words continued to flow. Ru'Hann had been raised to know his father as the Larneians had known him, but to know that his father was completely unaware of his existence.

"You think that was fair on the boy?" Jon asked, suddenly interrupting.

"It was the truth." She answered curtly, bringing a speedy halt to that area of conversation. "What else would you like to know?"

"T'Pol believes she can reinitiate your bond with a Vulcan mind-meld. Do you think it possible?"

"No broken connection has ever been re-initiated, as far as I am aware." Tharn answered carefully. "But since I don't know what a mind-meld is, I cannot fully answer the question."

A joining of minds, Archer explained as best he could, forced by telepathic and physical contact. In this case, the mind-meld would act as a superficial connection, a bridge, between Da'Nela and Trip. It would be up to Tharn herself to force contact with Trip's consciousness, wherever he was.

"Then the result depends upon where Trip is, and if he has any desire to return to his body." Da'Nela responded swiftly enough. "At this stage, we don't even know if his consciousness has any contact at all with his body."

"True enough." Was the reply. Archer downed what was left in his glass. "I have to thank you, for agreeing to this."

"I can see how much Trip means to you, Jon." Murmured the Larneian, humbled by his gratitude. "You must know that he means a lot to me too."

A simple nod conveyed Jon's affirmation of that statement. It was enough and more for both of them to understand that Trip was, at that moment, the centre of their universes. Da'Nela, almost hesitantly, reached out and filled their glasses from the bottle again. The bourbon was a comfort, both warming and relaxing, although she did come to wonder if it was just Trip and Archer that drank so much bourbon, or other humans too. She said nothing as she sat back, cradling the glass in her hands and gently swirling the liquid, deep in thought.

"He was never the same, you know," Archer spoke suddenly, startling Da'Nela from her thoughts, "after the bond was broken I mean. Never the same."

"I never meant to hurt him." The whispered words escaped her before she could prevent it. "I never meant to let him go."

"He recovered." Jon added quickly, regretting saying anything. "But even when he seemed to be just regular old Trip, there was something… missing. A spark, a twinkle, no one can ever pin point it, but it's missing."

Again, Da'Nela said nothing. But she understood. That missing 'spark' was like a tiny black hole inside, its pull ever stronger, and to wallow in memories was to teeter on the edge, as if waiting to fall into the oblivion that was time and feelings past…

Ru'Hann glanced over his shoulder to see two crewmembers hurriedly turn back to their work. Travis was still speaking to him, completely unaware of anything amiss. It was the same wherever he went on the ship, it was obvious that people were talking about him. It happened to a lesser extent at home too, but that was because he was a Representative's son. Why was it happening here too?

Travis finally became aware of the fact that Ru'Hann was uncomfortable. He stopped to wait for the young man to catch up, smiling. They were passing through Engineering, and so many people were stopping to stare after Ru'Hann in wonderment.

"Don't mind them." He told Ru'Hann softly. "They don't mean any harm."

"Why do they stare and talk behind my back?" The Larneian asked as they entered a corridor and the two men were finally left alone.

"You're famous. Everyone knows you're Trip's son."

"Is my father so famous then?"

"Trip was the very first chief of Engineering aboard this ship, part of the original crew - like Malcolm and Admiral Archer. People, especially the youngsters, look up to them."

"And you, of course."

Travis made a derisive noise. That was beside the point. "A few of us have known Trip since the start of Enterprise's maiden voyage, some before that, but those who don't know him stand in his shadow all the time."

"Why is that?"

"He helped to design the engine the warp seven engine."

To that, Ru'Hann made no reply. He had always known his father was an engineer, but he himself had only a mild ability with tools. A sense of awe set about him as he remembered gawking at the huge engines as the shuttle had left Larnei and returned to the ship. So he was the son of a genius, as well as a hero. Life seemed suddenly even more complicated than it had before.

"Tell me about him?"

"What do you want to know?"

Ru'Hann thought for a moment, searching for the questions he'd been asking all his life but now escaped him. He fell backing step with Travis and heaved a great sigh. "Everything." He replied. "Just everything."


	6. Reunions

A/N: As promised, Trip *is* in this Chapter! I swear. It's taken him long enough to emerge, but here goes… Please also bear in mind that I first wrote this around and about the middle of season two, I'm aware it doesn't pan with the later storylines!

**Chapter Six: Reunions**

The waiting lounge was silent except for a child's quiet snores when Jon entered it. The large room was dimly lit, accommodating those who were sleeping whilst waiting for their loved ones to appear. But Jon did not have to search the room for his beloved. He could see her immediately, standing in her typical Vulcan poise with hands clasped behind her back. And on her face was the smallest of welcoming smiles, a mere twitch of the corners of her mouth, but it was a smile Jon had come to recognise, to love. Even at this ungodly hour of the morning - 04:30 - she was still here waiting for him. His grin grew wider until it nearly split his face in two.

As he crossed the room to join her, T'Pol came forward. God, but he loved her. She was the most beautiful woman in the universe, her dark hair pulled back into a short pony tail, showing off her Vulcan ears. Those dark eyes capturing him and drawing him to her. He would give the universe to her if he could.

"Welcome home Jon." She offered simply, her voice deep and throaty, made him shiver. He smiled in response, leaning in to kiss her on the cheek. It was a human gesture that T'Pol had learned to tolerate over the years, understanding how much it meant to her husband that he be permitted to display his feelings for her in public.

"It's good to be back." He replied just as quietly. "Did you bring the little monsters?"

"No." T'Pol almost smiled at Jon's eagerness to see his beagle pups, Han and Luke, but managed to restrain it. There were times, she had to admit, when her poise and control almost slipped, a sure sign she had lived with humans too long. But she had grown attached to this emotional, head-strong race, some more so than others.

"Daddy?" A young girl sat up, rubbing her eyes sleepily. She reached about her for a red lollipop, which she proceeded to stick in her mouth before getting up and throwing herself into her fathers arms.

Jon scooped up his little girl and swung her round and round, grinning all over his tired face, please that his five year old daughter had awakened. Her blonde pigtails tickled him as she clung to his neck with her little arms. Jo'An stood out from the rest of his new family. She had the blonde hair and blue eyes of Jon's mother, rather than the dark brown hair and dark eyes of her mother and father. But she had her mother's ears and nose, thank goodness.

"Daddy's home! Daddy's home!" Jo'An was clearly pleased to see her father, but Jon hushed her, so she would not further disturb the other people in the waiting lounge. She emitted one last loud burst and then subsided as she was passed to her mother. "Charlie, wake up!"

Charles Henry Archer slowly opened his eyes, tiredly taking in his surroundings before sitting up. Of course, he had come with his mother and his sister to meet their father, returning from a mission to fetch a friend of his uncle. And there was his father, reaching up to paw at the sticky patch left by Jo'An's lollipop. Would his father never learn? Charles stood up, straightening his outfit before rising to greet his father in a very Vulcan manner.

"It is good to see you, Father."

"And you, Charlie." Jon knelt to wrap his arms around his son. The boy endured the display of affection in much the same way as T'Pol had. "Man, I missed you kids."

"It has been quiet without you Father." Charles offered, unsure what else to say.

Jon stood up, shaking his head with a smile. There was no doubt that Charlie - or Charles as the boy preferred - was his mother's son. He had her hair, ears, eyes, nose and Vulcanisms. But that did not mean that Jon loved his son any less. He had known all along, since T'Pol had first announced she was pregnant, that there was a good chance his child would take more after her than himself. And besides, if Charles was his mother's son, then Jo'An was Jon's daughter.

"Admiral?"

"Yes?" Archer turned from his family reunion to speak to the crewman requesting his attention.

"Representative Tharn and her son have finished their debriefing. Should I arrange some quarters for them?"

"That won't be necessary," T'Pol answered for her husband, "the Tharn's will be staying with the Admiral and myself. Please inform them we will join them momentarily."

"As you wish, Ambassador T'Pol." The crewman answered furtively and vanished back through the door from which he had emerged.

Jon glanced proudly at his wife. The title of Ambassador never failed to impress him. When Jon had given up the command of Enterprise to Reed, his wife had joined him back on Earth. When the Vulcan High Command had requested that T'Pol return to Vulcan, both husband and wife had been horrified. When Sovaal heard of T'Pol's plight, he had immediately requested that T'Pol be signed onto his staff as an ambassador. It was the least he could do for the couple to whom he owed his life. And so T'Pol had remained on Earth with her husband, and now her two children.

Ru'Hann stared around the kitchen of Jon and T'Pol's large apartment in wonder. The lights at the Star-base had come as little surprise - after all, the Great Hall, as a centre of activity, was always well lit - but he had never seen so much artificial light in someone's home. As the son of a Representative, Ru'Hann had always lived in the castle, but he had seen the homes of his fellows. They were always relatively dark. These lights were powered by something called electricity, as Charles had so succinctly informed him. The knowledge of a child half his age was terrifying to Ru'Hann, made him ashamed of how little he knew. But Da'Nela was asking as many questions as Ru'Hann was himself, and that was, at least, a little comfort.

It was late morning. Admiral Archer had departed for the hospital early, after only two hours sleep. It was touching to see the Admiral's devotion to Captain Tucker. It seemed odd, to Ru'Hann, to call Tucker his father, or even Trip, even just to himself… Ru'Hann supposed it was something that would come with time.

His mother was deep in conversation with Ambassador T'Pol, surrounded by books, PADD's and coffee, something which both Larneians had developed a taste for. The caffeine had little influence on Larneian biology, which was a relief. It had been a cause of amazement for Travis, who had watched Ru'Hann down three mugs of the stuff and found out the following morning that Ru'Hann had slept like a baby all night. Ru'Hann shook his head free of random thoughts and went back to eating a late breakfast of toast and coffee.

He was the image of serenity, of complete and utter calm when Jon first caught a glimpse of his friend. Trip, lying on his right side, looked to be caught in the deepest of sleeps, a sleep undisturbed by dreams. Jon Archer knew it was not so. Lieutenant Cutler, sitting with Trip as so many of his friends had taken turns doing so that those closest to him could take some rest, had greeted him with warmth and friendship, staying a while to talk to the man who had once been her Captain. It was amazing how close people became when a friend was in trouble.

But now that he was alone in the room with Trip, Jon knew that something tormented Trip's soul. Something bad. The occasional twitch of his features was enough to portray at least a fraction of the pain and fear, but the glassy gaze that emerged in the eyes which opened occasionally was what frightened Jon the most. It was almost like Trip was trying to think of something, anything, other than what was going on.

"Hey Trip." Jon spoke quietly, softly, his tone reassuring. "How are you buddy?"

There was no response at all, not even a twitch. Jon stared at the face for a full five minutes, hoping to see some sort of reaction. But there was nothing. "We made it back. You knew it would take a while but we made it." Still nothing. Jon took Trip's hand in his, hoping the physical contact would stir some sort of reaction. Nothing. He tried another tack. "She's alive Trip. Da'Nela's alive."

At last, a twitching smile so small that anyone might have missed it. But it was a smile there all the same. Jon beamed in return. And as Jon announced that Da'Nela had come back to Earth to help, Trip's smile actually broke into the grin Jon only had only seen once before - the day Da'Nela awoken aboard Enterprise after Trip had saved her life. A grin of pure, complete joy. But it was gone seconds later, replaced by a look of dull complacency. The point was Trip was linked with his body enough to hear Jon's news, even if only for a while. He was there, and he wanted to get out of the mess he was in.

"Do you really think this will work?" Da'Nela asked carefully. She was staring at a PADD, one which she and T'Pol had examined at length. "It seems somewhat… risky."

"Agreed." T'Pol stated quietly. "But it may be our only course of action."

"Maybe you're right." Da'Nela allowed, sighing. "I think I read something about a herb that's meant to aid trances brought on by what it described as 'external forces'. I think a mind-meld constitutes an 'external force'."

And with that she disappeared to find the book. T'Pol watched her go, glad that the Larneian was being so positive over the whole situation. The humans had, of late, become somewhat negative towards Trip's fate. Especially since Enterprise had left for Larnei. The question out of most lips had been 'What if he dies while they're away?' Had she not been Vulcan, their attitudes would have depressed her unbearably.

"Here it is." Da'Nela re-emerged, nose buried in a great book with a green, hard-back cover. She glanced up before seating herself in the arm-chair opposite T'Pol. "The Dayban leaf. I checked the stores that the Oracle gave me - I have a small amount."

"How does it work?" T'Pol asked. She had great faith in Vulcan incense helping meditation - why not other herbs and spices as well?

"It doesn't say." Da'Nela scanned the page briefly. "It says a pinch of the leaf should be steeped in water for an hour and then the water boiled over an open flame to create Dayban steam."

It was a relief to Da'Nela to have some positive input into the conversation. Until that moment, T'Pol had been doing most of the talking, giving her an in-depth lecture on the technicalities of mind-melds. The Meld would only create a bridge into Trip's consciousness - it would be up to Da'Nela herself to re-initiate the link between the two of them.

Neither of them knew what Da'Nela would find when she entered the meld-trance. They did not even know if it would be a physical representation or a mental one. Da'Nela hoped for the former - it could prove useful to be able to pick things up or hang onto something, especially if her dreams involving Trip were anything to go by.

A shaky sigh escaped Da'Nela, making T'Pol looked up. The Representative simply hung her head, pretending to read the text in front of her. It would not do to have the Ambassador thinking she was nervous. But the words swam before her eyes as her thoughts filled with doubt. In truth, it was not the trance or the mind-meld that scared her - it was seeing the man she loved even after fifteen years, lying so helpless and alone on a hospital bed, unable to even call for help from whatever realm his consciousness resided in.

"You are a strong person." T'Pol observed quietly, as if she had read her thoughts. "I know that your arrival has been a great comfort to Trip's friends, and I am sure Trip himself will be grateful when he knows what you have sacrificed for him."

"And what if I - we - can't do anything at all for him?"

"I pray that is not the case."

"I also." Da'Nela appeared to think for a moment. She looked up, and her eyes had regained their focus, as had her determination. "You are right, Ambassador, we should not dwell on possibilities that may not even occur. Shall I make us some more coffee?"

T'Pol allowed herself a small smile, which was enough of a reward for Da'Nela. "I believe I will have some Camomile Tea. Perhaps you would care to try some also?" T'Pol suppressed another smile as Da'Nela politely refused, joking that she had tried it during one of her visits to Enterprise fifteen years ago, and that it had kept her awake all night. It seemed that Camomile was the equivalent of caffeine for Larneians.

Jon glanced up as someone entered the room. It was mid-afternoon. Malcolm was due to relieve him at 17:00, but it was not Malcolm arriving early. He rose and gestured for her to come closer. She moved slowly, as if afraid to see what she might find.

"How is he?"

"No change from the last time you visited, Hoshi." Jon greeted his friend with a warm hug. "How was Miami?"

"I didn't want to go, but Josh insisted I take a break."

"I'm glad you did. How is your better half?"

Hoshi smiled fondly, leaning down to plant a gentle kiss on Trip's forehead. The skin was so cold to the touch, as cold as space itself or so it seemed to the woman who had served aboard Enterprise with these two men. As she stood up, she turned back to Jon. "If you're asking if he's worth leaving Starfleet for, then yes, he is."

"Good." Jon placed a hand on her shoulder. "How did the game go?"

"The Giants beat the Miami Dolphins 32:12. Josh was over the moon about it."

"I'll bet." An image of Hoshi and her husband on their wedding day sprang into his memory - the American Football Player - had towered over his tiny wife, but throughout the day had shown her every courtesy. Before that day, all the American Football players Jon had ever met (which added up to a lousy three) had been not only rude and conceited, but also complete and utter morons. Josh Smith had put that opinion to shame.

Hoshi stopped for a minute to gaze down at Trip, now peaceful again. She felt an intense guilt at abandoning him for a week, but her husband had been right. The three of them, herself, Josh and little Aimee had needed the time-out. And so to Miami the family had gone, to watch Daddy play football and relax in the Sunshine State. But suddenly she remembered the purpose of Enterprise's mission and became full of questions. "Did you find Da'Nela? Is she alive? Did she come back with you?"

"Yes, yes and yes. She's working with T'Pol right now to get everything set up for the mind-meld." Jon informed her. "Will you stay with Trip while I call home?"

"Of course." Hoshi perched on Jon's stool, taking Trip's hand in hers. "Go right ahead." It eased most of her guilt just to be sat by his side again, watching his features avidly for the slightest sign that he knew she was there. But this time, she was disappointed.

Trip was alone when Da'Nela entered the room. Malcolm must have left to fetch himself a coffee. She stared at the body, lying on his back, left hand laid atop the right on his bare chest, afraid to move any closer. Of all the reunions she had dreamed of for herself and Trip in the past, this scene had never been one of them. But they had only been dreams, a creation of the mind. This was reality.

It had been a long day, a long three weeks even, journeying across hundreds of light years to be with this man, and in that time she had imagined everything from arriving to finding him sat up and well again, to reaching Earth to find him dead. But even so, she was now unsure as to what to do or say.

Trip moaned softly, a sound of pain, drawing Da'Nela to his side. She placed her right hand on his, letting her left hand brushed his hair lightly. "I'm here Trip." She murmured softly. "I…" She was silenced by him twisting sharply away from the sound of her voice, away from her touch. Almost crippled with the grief this action loosed, she tried another tack. "I know you always knew it, but I never told you how much I loved you Trip. Please hold on, I'm here now, please, just hold on."


	7. MindMeld

**Chapter Seven: Mind-Meld**

"I will not pretend I am entirely happy with having such a potent mix floating about the hospital." The Denobulan Doctor Phlox informed his friends mildly. "However, under the circumstances, I suppose I will permit it."

"Thanks Doc." Jon murmured gratefully. Da'Nela did not even give Phlox a glance, her gaze was fixed upon Trip's frail body lying so vulnerable on the Bio-bed beyond the glass window. She had longed to bring Ru'Hann to his father's side, but now was not the right time. If she could, Da'Nela wished to introduce Ru'Hann to a full conscious and very much alive Trip Tucker. But there was much to do before they even knew if that would be possible.

T'Pol was also busy, mentally preparing herself for the task to come. Maintaining a bridge between someone with no control over their physical and possibly mental state and someone whom she hardly knew would be a strain. She hoped that it would not take long for Da'Nela to re-initiate the link, for then her part of this task would be over. The responsibility no longer carrying on her shoulders. There would have been a time when the responsibility would not have concerned her - but with a friends life, someone whom she had learned to trust… She had even grown fond of Trip in the years gone by. And so the responsibility weighed heavily on her shoulders; a burden she did not wish to bear.

"What do you hope to accomplish by this manoeuvre, Admiral?" Phlox asked.

"We hope to return Captain Tucker's consciousness to his body, using the old bond between him and Representative Tharn, using a mind-meld to re-establish that link." T'Pol answered for her husband. A crease in her brow was the only sign of how hard she was concentrating.

The thick, choking smoke twisted and snaked its way around the room, enveloping Trip's body, T'Pol and Da'Nela until Jon and the Doctor could barely see them. The Doctor frowned at the monitors, keeping a close eye on the vital signs of the three undergoing the Mind-Meld. The smoke was increasing T'Pol's heart-rate, but the Larneian seemed to be coping well. If anything, the Dayban smoke was relaxing Da'Nela, calming her. Phlox nodded to himself, satisfied for the first time that the herb might actually do some good. As for Trip, as usual the human was completely unresponsive to his surroundings. The was no change in his bio-signs at all.

Jon's eyes flicked between his wife and friends behind the glass screen and the monitors. He suspected that the Doctor did not need the monitoring system to know that his own heart rate was dangerously high. Jon wasn't sure who he was more scared for, his wife or his closest friend. His fears were numerous; he was aware that the process would be extremely strenuous on both T'Pol and Da'Nela's parts, who knows how that would affect them and Trip; also there was a risk that Da'Nela could become as lost as Trip. T'Pol believed that there would be no danger to herself on that front, but Jon wasn't so sure. His wife had quickly learnt the knack of telling white lies to comfort anxious humans during her time aboard Enterprise. He feared for them all. But mostly, he worried that this whole process would all be for nothing, that Trip may remain lost forever.

His hand was cold as she gripped it tightly in hers. Even if his soul was gone, she could at least keep a grip on his body, on this reality. Da'Nela sighed softly, closing her eyes as T'Pol instructed her to do. The Vulcan touched her face softly, probing for the contact points. Two slender fingers were laid on temple and forehead, thumb rested by her chin. Da'Nela shifted slightly, trying to get comfortable beneath the strange power of the grip. T'Pol uttered a single, quiet grunt of disapproval, then was silent once more. Da'Nela knew the Vulcan was laying a similar touch on Trip's face.

"My mind to your minds." T'Pol murmured softly, and Da'Nela tried not to wonder what T'Pol was feeling at that moment, attempted to keep her mind as blank as possible. "My thoughts to your thoughts."

Her mind calmed slowly. Da'Nela could feel everything floating away. Her thoughts, her fears, everything. Whether it was the effects of the Mind-Meld or the Dayban smoke, her head was heavy and her eyes seemed fixed shut. T'Pol continued to murmur words and phrases that no longer meant anything to Da'Nela. She sighed heavily, hoping she wouldn't fall asleep.

The pain slammed her head backwards, a sudden, blinding wall of fire. Her body seemed to be ripped in two by blunt daggers. Her soul screamed in both torment and protest, hating the very essence of the pain. Of all the wounds she had ever suffered, Da'Nela had never known a hurt such as the one she felt at that moment. But slowly, terribly slowly, the desperate pain began to fade until she could barely tolerate it. For one strange moment it was as though she and T'Pol were one. She knew every thought, every memory, every instinct contained within the Vulcan's mind. And she knew that T'Pol could feel the same. But an instant later it was all gone again. A single question was asked by T'Pol from somewhere deep inside her, and Da'Nela only just managed to answer.

"Yes." She croaked. She knew, instinctively, that it was not necessary to speak aloud, but in itself the action was a test of strength. "I'm alright."

*The worst is over.* T'Pol spoke in her head. *I did not anticipate that a meld would cause you such pain.*

*I can cope.* Da'Nela insisted. *Where's Trip?*

*I am about to bridge the gap between the two of you.* T'Pol returned calmly. *I wish you luck.*

*Thank you.* Da'Nela's response was barely audible, for she felt somehow humbled by the Vulcan's words.

Doctor Phlox frowned heavily as Da'Nela's vital signs suddenly went haywire. Whatever was going on, the Larneian was in huge amounts of pain. Beside him, Archer was grimacing in sympathy. The Doctor waited as patiently as he could, giving Da'Nela time to recover. Just as he was about to rush in and force T'Pol to break the Mind-Meld, Da'Nela's bio-signs began to stabilise again. Phlox glanced up, saw the Larneian's head coming up again, face calming. Though her vital signs remained abnormal, Phlox was satisfied that Da'Nela was no longer in immediate danger.

Jon watched the whole thing avidly, Da'Nela's pain was almost tangible. For a moment, Jon felt a stab of guilt at asking her to go through this pain for his friend, but he also knew that she probably would do anything for Trip, and so his guilt was pointless. He could see some form of interaction going on between the two women, but as neither was speaking, he was forced to assume that the Mind-Meld had worked.

She was recovering now. The Doctor was sure of it. The Larneian was composing herself. Heart rate was now somewhere close to normal, and her breathing was slowing and deepening. Phlox smiled softly, resigning himself to not intervening. Trip had gone through the whole process undisturbed. The only change came in the form of the tiniest flickering change of neural activity as T'Pol bridged the void between the two former lovers.

Da'Nela opened her eyes slowly, looking about her. Nothing had changed. The lights of the hospital room came close to blinding her, in general nothing had changed. Trip's hand was still gripped by her own. She sighed heavily. The Mind-Meld had failed. Reaching up, Da'Nela tried to pull away T'Pol's hand from her face, but her own hand fell instead into empty air. The Vulcan wasn't present in the room, but somewhere in the back of her mind, Da'Nela could sense her calming presence.

The room itself resonated with a cold aura that somehow disturbed Da'Nela, almost frightened her. It struck her as the temperature of death, mirroring the eerie stillness of Trip's body lying at her side. Standing up, the Larneian changed her grip on his hand into an arm-wrestling grip, and leant forward slightly.

"Trip?" No response. "Trip? Can you hear me?"

"Yeah." The word was no more than a whisper, but for a moment it was enough. Relief swept through Da'Nela, he was there, aware of her. His eyes remained closed and Da'Nela ran a hand through his hair, revelling in the feel of it, hoping to stimulate him into looking up at her.

Trip shifted slightly, cringing away from her touch, making her hand leap away from him. His eyes opened, and the bright blue eyes were glazed with pure, unabridged fear. But as they focused on her, came to recognise the face of the one he had loved, the delight on his face almost made Da'Nela shed tears. As he sat up, slowly, she longed to throw herself into his arms and drown herself in her love for him, but pride made her restrain her impulse and simply smile warmly at him.

"You came." He murmured softly, his hand resting against her cheek.

"Of course I came. Did you think that I could leave *you* alone in your darkest hour after what you did for me?" The words spilled from her lips, surprising both of them, and he nodded his gentle understanding in response. He had saved her life, because he loved her. It had taken that much to make both of them recognise their feelings.

He smiled then, eyelids drooping gently. Laying down again, he lost himself in her concerned smile, eyes closing. A darkness descended upon the two of them, and Da'Nela's eyes jerked around for something to hold on to, something to keep him and this image fixed, but there was nothing.

"You came." He repeated so very softly. And then he was gone.


	8. Keeper of Lost Souls

**Chapter Eight: The Keeper of Lost Souls**

"His vital signs have dropped again." Phlox reported softly. Jon heard the croak of disappointment in the Denobulan's tone. "I really thought we had him back for a few moments."

"Me too." Jon replied sadly. All the emotional stress of the time was beginning to tell on the Admiral and he sank onto a stool, staring at the floor. Phlox took a moment to lay a hand on the human's shoulder in silent comfort.

As they stared through the glass screen at Da'Nela, Trip and T'Pol, both men were amazed to see T'Pol open her eyes and hesitantly lift her grip from both the others. Terrified that something was wrong, Jon leapt off his stool and rushed into the room, but T'Pol simply held a long, slender finger to her lips and stood up slowly. Jon went to her, took her arm as she stumbled in her exhaustion.

"Are you alright, T'Pol?" He asked quietly. She nodded gently, insisting on walking into the room where Phlox was waiting, his Denobulan features creased into a frown.

"Ambassador?" He asked, but she was staring intently at Da'Nela.

"They no longer require my assistance." She informed them quietly.

"It worked?" Jon was grinning in pure delight.

"No. It is not the bond that is holding Da'Nela there. Something… some*one* else is keeping Da'Nela linked with Trip." She sank onto the stool that Jon had been occupying and sighed heavily. "I would venture the claim that that Mind-Meld was the most strenuous thing I have ever endured."

Phlox took charge then, scanning the Vulcan briefly. Finding nothing wrong, he suggested quietly that she go and rest for a while in the room they had prepared in advance. T'Pol was tempted to resist, but realised that rest was the logical process of recovery. She allowed her husband to escort her, telling him not to fuss. Phlox, meanwhile, turned his attentions back to Da'Nela and Trip.

"Trip?"

The call echoed round the darkness. Why hadn't she come out of the Mind-Meld? Where was Trip? Finding no answers, only more questions, Da'Nela reached out into the depths of the darkness, searching for the man she loved. She found nothing. Having nothingness, a big, black void, surrounding her unnerved the Larneian. What in the name of the Lords was going on?

"Why have you entered my domain?" A sultry female voice asked the question, but there was an under tone of steel to it that made Da'Nela frown.

"I search for a friend." She called back hopefully. "Who are you?"

"I am the Keeper of Lost Souls." Was the mysterious response. Da'Nela was sure she'd heard the voice before somewhere. But where? It appeared, though, that Da'Nela would not have much time for asking questions. "Who are you?"

"My name is General Da'Nela Tharn, once Emperor of Larnei, and Knight of the Larneian Order." She wasn't sure why she had used the old titles instead of her more recent title of Representative, but something about the voice brought out the need to impress. "I search for Captain Trip Tucker. A 'lost soul'."

"I have seen the one you seek. He is happy in my realm. Unless you too wish to become one as lost as He, I suggest you leave."

Da'Nela considered that briefly. Something didn't quite add up to the Larneian Representative. If Trip was so happy here in this domain, in this darkness, they why had he insisted that Archer and Reed bring her to Earth and to his side? No. Something was wrong, very wrong. If only she could work out where she had heard that voice before…

"I cannot leave, for I am honour-bound to find my friend. Others wait for his return."

"What is it that you ask of me?" Again, the Keeper's voice was as hard as iron.

"Allow me to speak with Captain Tucker, and I shall leave, at least for the time being."

Da'Nela was surprised when the blackness was suddenly filled with an image she had not expected - the Great Hall, an image of home. She found herself dressed in her formal, ceremonial armour. It weighed heavily on her shoulders as she looked down at the black breastplate, silver chain metal that encased her arms, black gauntlets and bracers that covered her hands and wrists, each one engraved with the head of a wolf-like creature. The chain-mail skirts covered the tops of her legs while, from mid thigh down, her legs were wrapped in steel, right down to steel-lined, black leather boots. At her side hung her father's blade, Angor-rath (FireBlade), the octagonal diamond set into the hilt shining as red as a ruby.

It was as she noticed this that Da'Nela knew that this scene was not of her own making. The blade should have been hung on the wall in her rooms, and the red colour of the ruby had faded not long after the sword had chosen her as the Emperor of Larnei. It was supposed to be the normal glass-like colour of diamond. Still, it felt good to have the weight of the blade at her hip again. Gripping the hilt firmly, Da'Nela drew the blade into the dim torch-light. The light shimmered off the blade with a majesty that Da'Nela had half-forgotten.

As she stared round the Great Hall, Da'Nela slid the blade home into it's scabbard - a movement so smooth that it denied the years that had passed since she had last sheathed a sword. Whoever had designed the scene had done a poor job, certain details were incorrect, or completely absent. The torches were strapped to the walls in odd places, the carvings on the fire-place surround and mantle were absent… it was as if it had been created from a memory faded by time, or the recollection of one who had not spent much time there.

"It does not meet with your approval?" The Keeper asked softly, almost sounding hurt. "I was merely trying to make you feel more at home."

"That is of no importance." Da'Nela shot back, ungraciously. "Where are you?" The question caught Da'Nela by surprise. She hadn't meant to speak it aloud.

"*That* is of no importance." The Keeper returned resolutely. "But if you must know, this is *my* domain. *I* am everywhere."

It still irked Da'Nela that she could not place the voice. And she was becoming frustrated. The Oracle's riddles were hard enough to cope with, but this talk was pure evasion. Where did she know the voice from? Why was this creature being so elusive?

"Ru'Hann?"

Jon called the young Larneian the moment he opened the door. And so by the time he had brought a still weak T'Pol into the apartment, Ru'Hann was waiting in the lounge. He was looking more anxious than the Admiral had ever seen a Larneian before.

"Where's my mother?" He asked, concerned. "Is she alright?"

"As far as we know, she's fine. The Mind-Meld didn't exactly go as planned, but it worked to a certain degree. Da'Nela is hooked in to whatever's going on in Trip's mind."

"May I go to her?" He was so eager, and the Admiral smiled comfortingly.

"I'm afraid Doctor Phlox has sent us home. There's nothing we can do, and it's getting late. He suggested that we wait until he calls." Jon answered quickly, trying to cover Ru'Hann's disappointment. "What have you been up to today?"

Ru'Hann sighed. He wanted so much to be at his mother's side, and of course to see the man who was his father. He understood the desire to protect him, but he had come all this way, it felt, for nothing. However, so as not to appear rude, the young Larneian drew himself up and raised his black head with pride.

"I have been researching my human heritage." He informed them succinctly. "Is it really true that humans evolved from apes?"

"That's what some people believe, yes. There are a number of religious beliefs that suggest otherwise." Jon smiled at the question. "How did Larneians evolve?"

"Larneians did not 'evolve'. We are the children of the Lords of the Hunting Grounds. The Lords created our race to serve them when they dwelled on our planet. When they left to reside amongst the stars, they set our people free, for they no longer required our services…"

Once they had been informed of what appeared to be the whole basis of Larneian culture and beliefs, Jon set Ru'Hann to work peeling potatoes for dinner. While none of them were particularly hungry, it was something to do, and that kept them all from dwelling on 'What if's'. Besides, Jon *hated* peeling potatoes.

"If my construction of your home does not meet with your approval," The Keeper growled angrily, "and you are so insistent on knowing where you have heard my voice before, then perhaps this is more to your liking…"

And with that, the scene shifted to that of a half-forgotten dream - the dream of the ravine. The desert-like conditions, yellow sand and sparse, barely-green scrub plants. The ravine cut the landscape, a deep, rocky void in the eternal wasteland.

"Help me!" She heard his call and dived to the edge, the weight of her armour holding her back. She reached down, crawling closer to the edge and dropping flat on her belly.

"Trip!"

Her scream echoed through the ravine, reverberating and quietening with every call. His hand was so close, yet so far from reach. She inched her body closer to the edge, reached further down. Behind her, the Keeper laughed tauntingly, but Da'Nela paid her no heed. She had to save him, he could not fall, not now.

"I'm falling!"

"Take my hand!"

The laugh broke forth again, and this time Da'Nela glanced round to see who could so laugh at this terrible scene. A woman stood there, formless and featureless, but somehow Da'Nela knew with some basal, feminine awareness, that it was a woman. The figure smiled evilly. "He is mine now." Da'Nela frowned, wriggly further forward and reaching further down. It was not far enough.

"I can't reach!"

"TRIP!"

The scream ripped through her as he slipped away from her, his eyes boring into hers even as he fell into the deep dark depths of the ravine. Her hands clapped to her ears so she would not hear the sickening thud as his body hit the floor of the chasm. Then, blissfully, there was nothing but the numbness of complete and utter shock. From somewhere in the depths of that emptiness, the Keeper's voice echoed the words "He is mine now."

Da'Nela's head dropped onto her arm, bent and acting as a cold, metal pillow. It was only as the tears filled her eyes that she realised that the whole seen had been an illusion… a fiction of the Keeper's making. Rising, Da'Nela brushed the illusionary dust from her armour and drew herself up to her full height. The tears in her eyes reflected the light, setting the green irises ablaze.

"Dost thou possess such cowardice that thou seeks to hide behind these tricks and falsehoods? Wilst thou not step forward and reveal thy nature and thy name?"

Stung by this challenge, spoken so royally in the old Larneian dialect which Da'Nela often dropped into when she was angry - a side effect of the negotiations between her peoples years ago, the Keeper steeled herself to face her aggressor. And from the illusive, formless shape stepped the most beautiful woman Da'Nela had ever seen. Dark brown curls fell down to her shoulders, around the face which was of a race Da'Nela could not place, so human and yet so inhuman. The brown eyes shone, accentuated by the delicate but extravagant green and silver make-up than seemed to mask most of the features. The woman wore a jade green dress, very low cut in a triangle that came to a point to reveal her voluptuous cleavage. It clung to the body - the narrow waist and ample hips, flowing down in simple ruffles to delicate ankles, high enough to reveal tiny toes and leather sandals. A small silver and diamond ring caught the light on her tanned left hand. Several silver bangles rattled together whenever the Keeper moved her wrists. The dress had only straps for sleeves.

"Will you tell me your real name?" Da'Nela asked, trying to sound off-hand. The Keeper smiled a dazzling, tolerant smile.

"My name is Varani."

"And why, Varani, are you keeping us here?"

For upon the revelation of the Keeper's name, this fact had become all too clear.


	9. The Challenge

A/N: I owe my Mum a bundle for this one too. She's my walking thesaurus!

Shock, horror, we actually get a little of Trip's POV in this chapter. Enjoy…

**Chapter Nine : The Challenge**

It was, in that shortest of moments, a small victory for Da'Nela. The observation - intuitive but obviously correct - made her captor start in shock. Her method of capture was clearly to befriend those in a coma or close to death, to whisper promises of eternal bliss, to draw them into her 'domain'. Varani was keeping Da'Nela here, in this accursed realm, because it pleased her to do so, explaining why when Trip had let go, T'Pol had been released from the Mind-Meld, but she had not. This fact also confirmed that the Keeper of Lost Souls was nothing more than a jailer, or kidnapper, and this artificial wasteland was her jail, her lair…

Varani raised her head and glared down her nose at the Larneian, observing her with an air of indifference. Da'Nela's hand rested almost idly - a clear threat - on the hilt of Angor-rath, fingers repeatedly gripping and releasing the leather binding, finding the comfortable purchase that would allow her to draw the blade in no time at all. With her head held high and eyes ablaze with her anger, armour shining in the glare of the artificial Sun, the Larneian looked every bit the General she claimed to be. Reluctantly, Varani had to admit, if only to herself, that she was impressed. Having never been so challenged by an intruder into her own province, she had not known what to expect from this person. She knew now, though, that her expectations should be set high.

Da'Nela watched Varani like a hawk. Every slight movement, every twitch of muscle. But this was not the place to initiate a fight. As a warrior, Da'Nela knew never to begin a fight on another warrior's battlefield. And this field was more dangerous than most… but soon, she suspected, she would have no choice, as the words of the Oracle came drifting back to her. "Not for nothing were you born the LoneWolf of the Oracle. You are the warrior, Shining Claw, not I, and it is not healing your friend requires." This place would be the battlefield, and Trip's freedom the prize. Da'Nela took in a deep breath and let it out in a long but silent sigh. Let it be so.

Varani scowled. This intruder was becoming all too comfortable. It was time for another display of her power. Reaching out, the Keeper of Lost Souls plucked a memory from the Larneian's memory, a stone balcony under a star-lit sky, a night of the greatest pain and loss. Let the warrior feel the true strength of her own memories, fears and emotions. Let her fall, here and now, into the darkness of the oblivion that was her own life.

Da'Nela felt the intrusion on her mind, she had felt it dozens of times from Trip when the two of them had been linked, felt it when T'Pol had initiated the Mind-Meld. This, however, was an intrusion so violent that Da'Nela stepped back from it, tried to raise barriers against Varani, but she was powerless to prevent it. There could be no barrier strong enough to protect her memories, no wall high enough to contain her emotions from Varani's probing. The pain burned through her, even more intense that when T'Pol had initiated the Mind-Meld. That pain had been an accident, unexpected, but this crippling pain that forced Da'Nela to her knees was intentional, another weapon the Keeper maintained.

Varani felt the pain, relished in it, feeding on the energy of it. The energy sustained her, flowed through her, and tasted every bit like the sweetest nectar from the most beautiful of flowers. Drawing in every drop of energy and emotion, Varani held out her hands, welcoming the horror of the moment. She used the energy to twist the surroundings, the desert and the ravine, into the balcony under the stars, exploited the feelings of sorrow and loss, of honour and disgrace combined to trap Da'Nela in the moment of all moments in her life of which she was most ashamed.

The images thrown at her, the feelings ripped from their time and place in her mind and thrust at her. Fresh tears streamed down Da'Nela's face as the stained blade - her own blade discarded fifteen years ago because it had been used to kill enemies and traitors, and finally to bring release to her father in his final moments - spun endlessly, hanging in the air, never to begin it's final descent into the river below. There were no sobs were torn from her, as they had been on the day in which Ru'Hann Tharn senior had died. The tears that fell this night were silent, her face contorted into an expression of pain fit only for the dying. Only the presence of Angor-rath at her side brought comfort, because she knew that on that day the blade had been in the Great Hall, not at her side. And this time, there was no Trip to bring her comfort.

He was in a place of darkness. A darkness that had long ago poisoned his will to live and sucked from him any sense of feeling or emotion. His own pain no longer hurt him. His anger and frustration and being so held in this void of nothingness was now nothing but a mild irritation that surfaced from time to time like an itch. Mostly he slept… a sleep of nightmares of which, through living and reliving them, he was no longer afraid. And sometimes, he would wake up in his own bed aboard the Lupus and he would think that it had all been some strange and elaborate dream. But the image would fade, and he would know that she'd been messing with his memories again. And yet nothing in him could stir a protest now - there was no will, no energy left for that.

And so when She threw the image at him, Trip just sighed in his now melancholy way. He knew that the one who called herself The Keeper of Lost Souls was just taunting him again. He had given up rising to such torments weeks ago. Let her pitch scene after image after emotion at him like a never ending stream of baseballs. He no longer cared enough to take a swing at them.

It was only the low moan of pain that startled him. So odd was it in this realm, and yet so familiar, that for the first time in days - or possibly weeks since time had little meaning here - Trip found himself focusing on it. What poor sap had found themselves to be the Keeper's next plaything?

"Trip." The same sound again, clearer this time, his own nickname, and suddenly the memory surfaced. She really had been here, it hadn't been a fiction after all. Da'Nela! She had come for him… and was paying for her courageous and righteous act with pain.

"Da'Nela?" He called back to her in return, his voice quavering with uncertainty.

"Trip!" Her voice was stronger this time as she recognised his voice. She cried out, a sound filled with pain and an overtone of heart-rending sorrow. A final whimper drifted over to him. "Please. Help me."

And with that plea, his heart swelled with the love he had once held for her. Rising - had he been lying down this entire time? - Trip quested towards her, calling soothing phrases all the while. He found himself once more in the darkened corridor of the FireWolf base that he knew so very well, that he had walked so many times both in reality and in his dreams. He walked up through it, towards the dim starlight, unconsciously playing the role of himself from that early morning so many years ago, that memory, and even found himself searching for his broken Universal Translator. Finding the old module in its usual pocket, he let it be. Knowing this realm as he did, he knew he would not need it.

When he first caught sight of her - kneeling with her back towards him and hunched in on herself - he forgot everything, his mind going completely blank. The only thing he felt was that strange attraction he had felt almost from the first moment that he and Da'Nela had met. Seeing her there, knowing that the tears were sliding down that black reflective face from the pools that welled in her large green eyes, Trip's heart very nearly shattered with the pity and compassion that flooded into him. He crossed the short distance between them, crouched at her side and enveloped her in a powerful embrace.

When his arms crushed her against his body, Da'Nela took a sharp intake of breath. The feel ,the smell, and the warmth of him so close against her… it felt like being in that cosy cocoon between being awake and asleep. But more importantly it still felt so right. Extracting her own arms from where they were trapped between their two torsos and held him in return.

"Te nuca ren Da'Nela Tharn." She murmured into his ear.

"I know." He returned softly.

"Re eva da, Trip Tucker."

That one confused him. He knew that the first phrase had been simply telling him her name - just a moment plucked from her memory of this night - but that had been the only phrase of Larneian he had ever really picked up. Maybe he did need that UT after all… His bemused look as he pulled back to look at her, made Da'Nela smile. "It was one of the few things I never told you." She finished. He frowned then, still not understanding, but just then a cruel laugh interrupted them, coming from nowhere, and yet everywhere all at once.

"Such a touching reunion…"

"Let him go, Varani." Da'Nela demanded, rising from her kneeling position and addressing the imperceptible Keeper. Her voice was crystal clear and bold, now that Trip was at her side once more. It did not even throw her that she was addressing empty air, for there was no sign of Varani's human form.

"And you will pay me what in return?" Their captor responded in a tone clipped and cold. "Your own soul?"

"My soul is not my own to give." Da'Nela shot back. "Not for nothing was Shining Claw born the LoneWolf of the Oracle."

"Ah yes… The vice of your legendary Lords of the Hunting Grounds." Varani laughed bitterly, and there was a theatrical note to it. "Perhaps I should barter with them for his soul instead."

"You may barter like a commoner with anyone you chose, harlot, but do it when the only time you waste is your own." Da'Nela returned with a regal air, every bit the ruler of her people now that she had recovered from Varani's torture. "For now, this is a request. Soon, however, it will be an inevitability. Release Captain Tucker to the world in which he belongs."

Silence. Trip, having marvelled at Da'Nela's recovered strength and resolve, was now in awe of the fact that Varani was forced to keep a politic silence whilst preparing her comeback, that it did not just rolled off the back of Da'Nela's demand. If Varani feared Da'Nela's threat, she did not show it. Trip had only one true curiosity. He longed to know what the Keeper, his captor and tormentor, looked like. He knew she was female, but otherwise he had no clue, and for some reason he longed to know.

Da'Nela meanwhile, allowed herself a small triumphant smile as the Keeper remained silent. Her words had had the effect she desired - to buy herself a few more precious moments with Trip. She turned to him, concern showing on her face. "How do you feel?"

"Don't feel much these days, t'be honest." He answered after a moment's thought. "It sure is good ta see ya though."

"And you." She replied, slipping her hand into his. He flinched briefly at the touch - what had the vile witch done to him? - and Da'Nela pulled her hand away regretfully, not wishing to cause him any discomfort.

"I'm sorry." He murmured, seeing the look that crossed her face.

"Don't be." She smiled at him, but it was merely the echo the shadow of a smile that he had seen so many times before. Da'Nela turned back to face the open air to await Varani's response to her challenge, for she could not bear to look into the eyes of her one and only love lost.

The answer was a long time coming, in itself a challenge and a test. It seemed as though hours upon hours had passed, though it was hard to tell how many because dawn never broke. Tiredness beginning to tell, Da'Nela had finally sunk into a meditative position - quite an achievement when dressed in ceremonial armour - with legs crossed and hands rested on her knees, palms open to the sky. Her eyes remained fixed on one thing only. The object of her attention had fallen asleep once more, laying curled up in a foetal position against the rampart, unconsciously protecting his back. While Trip had been awake, there had been little conversation between them, a further sign of the gulf that now existed between after all this time.

Whilst meditating, Da'Nela pondered the dream she had experienced weeks ago, the one where Trip had claimed that "At last, I am free to love you again." She had hoped, in her heart, that he would still love her after all this time, but like so many others, it seemed that that dream was now shattered. How could he be free - whether he loved her or not was irrelevant - when he was trapped here, his feelings buried so deep within himself? Once or twice she had tried reaching out to him with her mind, in vain attempts to reconnect the bond that had once been shared between them, or just to see if he felt her probing… but nothing came of it.

Disappointment was building inside her. She had warned Archer and the others, told them that no broken bond had ever been restored, but despite that knowledge, even she had held some hope that this might be the first to break the rule. Now that hope was sliding away as he slid into dreams that she could not share. Finally, after perhaps three hours of watching him, Da'Nela closed her own eyes and began to collect and centre her thoughts.

"My warrior."

Da'Nela started at the soft words, spoken in a low male voice. A voice she recognised, a voice she had first heard through the ears of a baby. A voice last heard two years ago when he had thanked her for agreeing to carry out his last rites. Rising, Da'Nela was greeted by a strangely youthful Larneian. She looked him up and down, wondering who this young man could be, why he seemed so familiar to her. How could that voice belong to this young man? He, too, was appraising her appearance, and as he smiled…

"Nu'Tenn." She offered softly, knowing that it was him. The sound was half a cry, for she was appalled that he should be here, in this realm. "No."

"No." He agreed, smiling slightly. "The Lords were kind enough to grant me these few moments in this realm. You know what it is that you must do. You must challenge the Keeper, Da'Nela, with the soul of the one you love as the prize."

"How can I fight her, Nu'Tenn? She has the power of a God."

"You must find a way, child. It is his only hope."

Da'Nela swallowed nervously, forcing down the lump in her throat. She reached out to the man who had been a second father, her mentor, her aide… and he enveloped her in a strong embrace that gave her all the courage she needed. As he released her, looking directly into her face, his hands rested on the tops of her arms and he smiled.

"Your father is so very proud of you, child. As am I."

"I miss you both so much."

"Then know that we watch over you, and that we love you. The boy is most important now - he must know his father."

As ever, at the mention of her son, Da'Nela smiled proudly. Nu'Tenn continued to smile at her as he bid her goodbye and began to fade from her sight. Given the strength she needed now, Da'Nela felt very little sadness at his parting from her again. She kept her eyes on him until the last, though, hoping that she would earn both his and her father's pride in what she had to do next…

"Then let it begin, and we shall see, Shining Claw…"

The Keeper had returned.


	10. Battles of Mind and Body

A/N: Argh! For those of you that don't know me, I hate writing fight scenes… please - feedback! Constructive reviews welcome, since I need feedback to improve my writing…

**Chapter Ten : Battles of Mind and Body**

In that moment, as her hand grasped Angor-rath's hilt and drew the blade into the sunlight, Da'Nela was stunned that she felt no fear. Before any battle, it was natural to be nervous, and had always been the case. But now, as she swung the blade in swift, curved movements, finally resting the flat of the blade against her nose in a formal salute, there was nothing but a mild sense of anticipation. Her sword arm fell away, curving the blade down to her side again. She knew, simply from the way the dull starlight bounced off the blade, that it was deadly sharp and still sound. From its balance and weight, it felt, for the first time, as if the sword had been made for her and her alone. She waited, muscles tensed and ready, for Varani's first move, marvelling at the lack of weight of the blade.

"The blade is your own, child," Nu'Tenn's voice echoed in the stillness, falling to a whisper. "It was always destined to come to you."

"Be gone, demon." Sharply spoken, the Keeper's words bit into the evening air. "You are not welcome here."

Varani emerged then, dressed unashamedly in her flowing gown. She held no weapons, carrying nothing with which to defend herself. She turned to face Da'Nela, a completely emotionless expression on her face. A sudden lift of the Keeper's hand brought Da'Nela into a fighting stance, sword raised, but the Keeper merely gave a wave of her hand, making her bangles chime together in a hauntingly beautiful sound. The backdrop was twisted into a vast arena, like the Roman Colosseum, during the vast heat of the day. The Keeper smiled as Da'Nela stared round in amazement, but Varani's own gaze settled on Trip.

Who was staring at her in plain adoration.

Da'Nela saw Varani gaze towards Trip, saw the puzzlement that flashed across that beautiful face, and frowned mildly at such a ploy. It was not honourable to attempt to so distract an opponent. And so, the Larneian refused to glance over her shoulder, which would have given her opponent an opportunity to strike. Yes, Varani now saw that her ploy would not work, and the Keeper blinked long eyelashes rapidly before raising her hand again.

Four lions rushed at Da'Nela, great maned beasts with huge teeth and claws, all snarling viciously. Fear shot through the Larneian then, a cold rush of adrenaline that froze every muscle. For several moments, as sheer, blinding terror washed through her, she could not move. Then, as the first lion leapt into the air, a swift blur of golden fur, Da'Nela thrust Angor-rath upward, sword biting into the soft flesh of the belly. Raising the other arm simultaneously, a second lion attempted to clamp his teeth into her arm. Instead, they scraped on the plate armour and he fell to the floor, laying there stunned and confused.

The third lion let out a mighty, spine-chilling roar, before rushing in. As if in slow motion, Da'Nela watched chest muscles tense as the carnivore gathered himself. Simultaneously, the knees bent and lips curled back to reveal massive canines and evil-looking molars designed to pierce and shear flesh respectively. The thought made the warrior pale to a sickly shade of grey as the blood drained from her face. And as the beast leapt into the air, claws extended and reaching for her, Da'Nela ducked with lightening reflexes, and the beast sailed over her head, crashing into his fallen comrade. Da'Nela somehow found a moment to look on in disgust as the beast decided that dead meat was better food than live, armour clad Larneian.

A low, rumbling growl brought her attention back to the final lion, stalking in a small circle around his prey. His teeth were bared and shone white in the sunlight. Her victory over his three fallen comrades was not enough to make Da'Nela bold, indeed she retreated a little as he stopped his pacing to put some distance between them. But in a calculated move, the animal charged in to knock the Larneian off her feet before moving in to sink his teeth into her throat…

It was only as she caught a glimpse of the cat's eyes - saw the empty, lifeless shells that were not the gateways to the soul that they should have been - that Da'Nela realised that these beasts were not even close to being real. Though in this realm they could do her harm, they were little more than another of the Keeper's fictions, and she steeled her mind against such tactics.

"Be gone." She ordered harshly. The lion still towered above her, but stopped his attempt to seize her throat in his teeth. Da'Nela stared up into those dark, soulless eyes. "GO!"

Startled by the sudden command, the lion and his fellows disappeared in a puff of dust and smoke. And as Da'Nela hauled herself to her feet, Varani laughed. "Very good, warrior." She mocked her opponent lightly. The Keeper watched as the Larneian retrieved her sword, used sand from the arena floor to clean a little of the blood and entrails from the blade. Rising again, Da'Nela wondered if the witch could see the exhaustion in her eyes. Though the fight had not been particularly physical, it had taken nerves of steel to remain calm. Da'Nela wasn't sure she could take another fight like that. But even so, she felt a little better for having discovered Varani's trick. If she had done it once, surely she could do it again? And indeed, moments later, Varani raised her hand once more, the bangles clinking merrily together, and conjured another illusion - a huge, hairy tarantula.

The arachnid approached Da'Nela slowly, its eight legs all moving independently and gazing down upon its potential prey with impregnable malice. Da'Nela recoiled in horror initially - what was this disgustingly ugly creature? - but then pulled herself up to her full height and raised her own gauntleted hand. "Stop." She commanded, reaching to push against the thing with both her hand and her will at the same time. She felt the force behind the creature, felt Varani's strangled hold upon it, forcing it ever onwards, but behind her own instruction, Da'Nela put every ounce of strength. And slowly… so very slowly, the spider halted its forward progress. "Turn." One word demands were all she could utter, this battle of wills was taking so much out of her. "Attack." And with that final word, Da'Nela bravely - or stupidly - let go her hold on the tarantula with one final, massive push. For a brief moment that seemed to last an eternity, the beast hovered between the two women, not knowing what to do. And then it charged…

Varani screamed in genuine terror as her own creation stampeded towards her. Her eyes grew wide as she pushed her hand out to arms length, calling the beast to attack Da'Nela, to stop, but the arachnid was free of her influence now and continued to run towards her, mouthparts gnashing together in seeming anticipation. With one desperate effort, Varani shrieked at the creature "Die!", and the spider vanished.

Da'Nela looked on as Varani fought for breath in relief. The Larneian was unashamedly relishing this moment, though from the outside it looked as if the one-time emperor was showing a mild concern for her opponent. But the glory of the moment was too much even for Da'Nela and she glowed inside at her success. All exhaustion was gone, replaced by sheer exhilaration. This woman, this beast, had captured and tortured so many souls, including the soul of the one Da'Nela loved most in the known universe, and now she was paying for those sins ten-fold.

"Now that we have the game of wills out of the way," Da'Nela had waited until the Keeper had retained a little of her composure to speak, "I shall ask again - release Trip now, or must this fight continue?"

Varani raised her head slightly, recognising the offer of surrender. It could not be - she could not be beaten like this, by this insignificant being that had entered her domain without permission. Pride flowed through her, mixing with determination and Varani made her decision. A wave of her hand, and her body became clad in a claret-coloured coat of plates - a jacket of suede containing steel plates that reached down to mid-thigh. Her arms and legs were coated in gold-coloured plate armour, her hands gauntleted in plate gloves and her boots were of the finest of leathers. At her side hung a blade the size of Angor-rath, with a jewel encrusted hilt and scabbard. Varani pulled on a helmet of the same metal as the plate armour and slammed the visor down arrogantly.

"Let us continue, child, and test your swordsmanship." And she drew her sword, catching the light to blind Da'Nela, but the Larneian was in the process of pulling on her own helmet so the attempt was in vain.

"As you wish." The Larneian was angered by the term "child", as Varani had known she would be, and she lifted Angor-rath to defend Varani's first lightening over-head blow.

The two blades crashed together, sending great shudders through their wielders. It was a sensation that Varani had never felt before, and the Keeper relished the power of the simple sword in her grip. Da'Nela, more used to hand-to-hand combat, remembered a hundred battles and skirmishes in that short moment, a life-time at war resurrected. It had been so long, but the Larneian had not allowed her muscles to lessen in those long years since she had last been forced to wield a sword against another person. Even so they quivered beneath the force of Varani's blow and Da'Nela knew then that this would be a close battle.

Da'Nela stepped back, sliding her sword out from under Varani's, used the natural flow to deliver a storm of lightening blows, driving the Keeper backwards as she parried each stroke frantically. Da'Nela changed the pattern swiftly, done so smoothly that it almost caught Varani off guard, but the Keeper was able to parry the blows and managed to slice her sword in close to the body. The point of the blade glanced off Da'Nela's plate armour with a scraping sound that made Da'Nela's teeth clench.

Trip watched the battle unfold before him, terrified. She was beautiful beyond words. Through the visor of her helmet, Trip could see her eyes shine with her determination as she fought so bravely. Her armour showed off her figure in a way he had never believed possible. How could he have known her for so long, and yet never known how much he loved her? For to Trip, the Keeper was perfection itself… The human agonized with himself as the battle continued, had to stop himself calling out in triumph as the Larneian - the unwelcome visitor to the Keeper's realm - slipped, arms flailing in a vain attempt to maintain her balance. He smiled as the warrior fell flat on her back and Varani (even her name was beautiful) moved in for the kill.

But he saw then that it had been an elaborate deception. As Varani came forward, the Larneian swung her foot out, sweeping the Keeper's feet out from underneath her. Trip started forward suddenly, his face contorted into an expression of anguish, and was forced to watch as Da'Nela tucked her right leg, bent, underneath her left and rolled to her feet. She placed Angor-rath's tip against Varani's throat, in the gap between helmet and chest plate.

"Do you yield?"

"Never."

A pause. "Then you shall die." The cold words were accompanied by Da'Nela gripping the hilt of her blade in both hands. Trip knew, somehow, that this was out of character for her, and he ran in, shoving her aside.

"No!"

"Do you yield?" Da'Nela asked sternly, watching Varani squirm beneath her weapon.

"Never."

Da'Nela closed her eyes briefly behind her visor. She had done the honourable thing - offered her opponent the chance for surrender. And she would have given quarter, had it been demanded. But without the acceptance of surrender, she had little choice. In killing the Keeper, this realm would be destroyed and all souls lost within it freed. And so she gripped the blade between both hands, raising it slightly. "Then you shall die." The scene somehow reminded her the time she had slaughtered a two-faced traitor to her clan in cold blood. It had brought her no satisfaction then, and there would be none in this killing either…

She never even heard Trip run up, the first thing she knew of it was when she was stumbling sideways, her whole body shocked by his impact. He stood there now, breathing heavily and glaring at her with a hatred she had never known he could possess. Pulling off her helmet, Da'Nela frowned her confusion at him.

"Ya can't kill her." He insisted. "If ya wanna do that, you'll have ta go through me first." Somehow, he knew that she could never hurt him.

"Trip…"

"I mean it." His scowl deepened, then lifted into a smile as he turned and helped Varani to her feet.

Da'Nela stared in disbelief as Varani accepted Trip's hand. For a moment, she felt nothing at all. And then, with a sudden brutality, a searing pain through her chest nearly crippled her. She had felt such a pain only once before - when her telepathic bond with Trip had broken. For what seemed like forever, Da'Nela could do nothing more than gaze sorrowfully at the pair. With shaking hands, the Larneian returned Angor-rath to its scabbard.

Trip heard the noise of the sword sliding home and turned once more. His eyes were now filled with a kind of reverence that Da'Nela had only ever seen in a few religious fanatics on her own world. But that love was not for her, but for her enemy. She sighed heavily and removed her gauntlets. Raising her chin to hold her head with a pride she did not feel, she addressed Trip quietly.

"You wish to stay."

"Yeah."

"And what of your friends? Admiral Archer, Ambassador T'Pol, Captain Reed, Commander Mayweather, Hoshi? Do you care nothing for them?"

"'Course I care." He snapped back at her. "But this is where I belong now. With Varani, if she'll have me?"

Da'Nela raised a hand and her will to prevent the Keeper from answering. "And yet you would not join her when she first asked, all those months ago in our own universe? What spell has she put you under?"

Trip frowned at that question, trying to recall the memory of that away mission. It was vague, misted, but there. He remembered some of the more lucid moments of his 'illness', and he knew that the whole episode had been conjured by that alien woman who stood behind him now. Disappointment bit into his very soul, or all that was left of it. Trip felt wearier in that moment than in all the times when he had lain alone and afraid. He turned to face her in trepidation, as if he feared that she would turn into some sort of serpent before his very eyes like the witches he had heard about in his childhood.

"You need not fear me, Trip Tucker." Varani insisted, her voice full of honey and promise. "I wish only to give you what you deserve, whatever you desire. You wish to be the sole leader of Starfleet - I can make it so. I could make you leader of a planet, or of a galaxy. You may be supreme ruler of the universe, with me as your queen, all you have to do is ask."

Trip's eyes shone at her words. Her voice had instilled into him the very thing she had intended - desire. He could have anything his heart dreamed of, anything at all… Hypnotised by her voice and by dreams, he stepped towards her, raising his eyes to meet hers - but Varani was looking towards the Larneian with a glare of triumph and venom. Trip followed the Keeper's gaze and his eyes met Da'Nela's, for she had eyes for him and him alone, and he saw the sadness there borne of losing him.

"All I have ta do is ask." He echoed, his eyes never moving. "And what would you offer me…?"

"How can I compete with an offer of the universe?" Da'Nela responded, hardly knowing what she was saying. "I am neither rich, nor a God, I cannot offer you a planet or the stars. If I could offer you my life and soul, I would, but they are not mine to give. My heart is yours already."

"A life, a soul, a *heart*?" Varani spat, laughing. "Mere baubles. Come my love, the universe awaits."

Trip's eyes finally flicked from Da'Nela to Varani, once more in flowing dress and hair flowing in a gentle breeze, beauty and power incarnate. He glanced back to the warrior, clad in her armour, her black hair pulled back into a pony tail with stray waifs pulled out by the removal of her helmet. The Keeper was still glaring at Da'Nela, looking like a cat stalking its prey, her face angry and impatient. The Larneian's gaze had never faltered. Trip smiled.

"Anything I ask?" He addressed Varani quietly. He eyes flicked to him and she smiled. "You promise?" The question was almost child-like.

"I promise."

"Set us free? Set us *all* free?"

Da'Nela smiled as Varani's face shifted to a horror-filled gaze. With that simple request of a promise, Trip had strategically bound Varani by her own honour bound her in to releasing every one of the souls she had captured. So incensed by that trap was she that the Keeper turned an ugly shade of purple, offering Da'Nela a look that would surely have maimed and dismembered the Larneian if looks could kill, before raising and waving a hand. A smile of pure evil crossed her hate-ridden face, and a moment later she was gone.

Da'Nela opened her eyes slowly, allowing herself time to readjust to the bright lights of the infirmary. Her body, laid on a hard bio-bed, seemed to weigh ten times as much as usual. Every muscle ached and her head was pounding. But as her eyes were finally able to focus, Da'Nela recognised the three faces staring down at her.

"Ah, Representative." Phlox offered quietly. "How do you feel?"

"Apart from every muscle aching and being completely exhausted, fine." Da'Nela smiled. "How's Trip?"

"He's sleeping." Admiral Archer responded quietly, one hand gripping Da'Nela's shoulder. "Thank you for bringing him back to us."

"It was he who set us free…" Da'Nela smiled. "I can take no credit for that."

And then the third person came forward, and Da'Nela sat up to wrap her son in the warmest of embraces. Neither mother nor son said anything as they reaffirmed the fact that she was alive, well and back in the real world. When Da'Nela released him, Ru'Hann smiled his relief. "For a while, I feared I had lost both my parents."

"At one point, I did too." Was the rather shaky response.

"Captain Tucker is awake." Phlox had been drawn aside by a nurse. "Would you care to see him?"

"Yes." Da'Nela and Archer answered in unison. Ru'Hann hesitated, then replied that he would wait until Trip had been told about his son before making his presence known. Though he would not say it aloud, the boy was still very much afraid that his father would want nothing to do with him.

Trip was sat up when Jon and Da'Nela entered the room. He smiled at Archer, accepted a bear hug without protest. There was a moments awkward silence, before Jon told Trip that it was good to have him back. There was then a burst of friendly conversation between the two men during which Da'Nela stood by and smiled. It was good to see Trip in his own surroundings again. Finally, Trip looked up at Da'Nela.

"Hi." He offered tentatively.

"Hello." She responded quietly.

Trip frowned. "I don't mean t'be rude but… do I know ya?"


	11. Strangers

]**Chapter Eleven : Strangers**

Jon blinked rapidly, staring at his friend in bewilderment. But the blank look in Trip's eye was enough to make the Admiral realise that his friend wasn't joking. He stared at Trip, whose gaze was wildly floating between his two companions, and smiled for lack of anything else to do. Archer then ventured a glance at Da'Nela, but could not meet her eyes because he could not bear the look of stunned agony that had set upon her face. What she must be going through now, after everything she had done and achieved for Trip only to have him reject her so unintentionally cruelly, he could not even begin to fathom.

Da'Nela knew Trip wasn't joking, though how she knew, she wasn't sure. Was it the look in his eye, the expression on his face, or some glimmer or thread from the bond they had once shared? But these thoughts didn't occur to her until much later, when she was trying, and failing, to sleep. Right at that moment, nothing was going through her head. Her rib cage felt crushed, her eyes stared at him, unseeing, the rest of her body refused her brains commands. She could neither move nor speak, the only thing she could register was the pain… and finally the anger.

"Forgive my intrusion." She hardly knew what she was saying, where were these words coming from? "I'll… I'll leave you in peace."

And somehow, so very slowly, she turned and walked stiffly from the room, forcing herself to keep her head proud and upright. She refused to acknowledge the desire to collapse and cry. After all that she had been through, after the debating and the fighting, what cruel twist of fate had that harlot, that demon, that… Keeper of Lost Souls dealt her now? For Da'Nela did not doubt that it was she who was to blame for this turn of events.

"Jon?"

Archer turned back to his friend, still feeling his heart go out to Da'Nela, and smiled gently. Trip looked so much better already. He'd regained some colour and his fever had all but dissipated. There were so many questions Jon wanted to ask his friend, but he could see that Trip was confused about something and so he gave him the chance to speak first.

"Who was that woman? I… I feel as if I oughtta know her, but I just can't place her…"

"But you must remember her… she just saved your life, as you saved hers once… the two of you were in love once…"

Trip searched Jon's face, waiting for the grin and the laugh to show he was joking, but Jon simply searched his face in the same way and Trip knew he was searching for some kind of recognition. He tilted his head down and away from his friend as he filtered through his memories for something - anything - that might remind him of where such a striking woman might fit into his life… but there was nothing. He sighed in frustration. Somehow he was sure that he knew her, he just couldn't remember…

"Memories can come back." Hoshi offered softly, placing a mug of coffee in Da'Nela's hands. The Larneian, with nowhere specific to go, had wandered through the streets of New York in the rain, unable to think or to feel or even to cry. It was only as she realised that it had grown dark that she had headed back to Jon and T'Pol's apartment, her unerring sense of direction guiding her. Ru'Hann had been most relieved to see her, as were Archer and Phlox to hear that she was safe and sound. T'Pol, practical as ever, had insisted that she had a warm shower and changed, then something to eat, despite all Da'Nela's protestations. Hoshi, with daughter Aimee in tow, had arrived shortly after Da'Nela to take care of the children whilst T'Pol went to a meeting at work.

"Most memories aren't blocked by some demon-woman with a grudge." Da'Nela responded dully, staring at the coffee.

"What about those books the Oracle gave you?" Ru'Hann asked his mother quietly. "Is there something in those that might help up?"

"Perhaps." Da'Nela brightened slightly. Then she sighed. "But not tonight. I'm just too tired to even think about going through all those books."

And so instead, Da'Nela spent the evening telling Hoshi about her experiences with Trip and Varani in the Keeper's realm, watching Ru'Hann and Charles play chess, and Aimee and Jo'An play with dolls. Hoshi was horrified by the retelling of the battles, openly praising Da'Nela's courage and bravery, but Da'Nela pushed her admiration aside, instead making much of the way Trip had set them free, along with every other soul Varani had captured…

"So we shared this bond for, what, weeks?"

"I think it was almost a year." Malcolm replied, after counting the months of on his fingers. "Check your personal logs, you'll find out."

"Genius!" Trip exploded, clicking his fingers happily. "Why didn' I thinka that?"

"Because you're not up to full strength yet." Doctor Phlox intervened, entering the room. "It's time you got some sleep, Captain."

"I'll leave you to it." Malcolm rose, glad that something had finally cheered Trip up a little. "If you like, I'll have your logs downloaded here, so you can read through them tomorrow."

"I'd appreciate that Mal. Thanks."

Trip tried, after Malcolm had left, to get Doctor Phlox to tell him what he remembered of Da'Nela, but the Denobulan would not be drawn. After several minutes questioning, he threatened to sedate Trip if the Captain did not get some rest and Trip finally piped down, settling into a sleep filled with dreams - or memories? - of a woman he knew so well and yet did not know at all.

"Chief Engineer's personal log.

I s'pose I always knew this day would come, but I never realised how lost I'd be without her. It's been a few days now since she left… since the bond broke, and I've tried a thousand times to record this log. It's just the emptiness, the loneliness… she made me a whole person, an' I never wanna be without her. Maybe I shoulda stayed with her… Too late now…"

The log didn't end officially and Trip knew that he must have curled up and cried for a long time after recording it. What had made him keep this particular effort, rather than another? Perhaps he'd just given up trying to get through all the feelings… It didn't matter. He didn't remember recording the logs. Eleven months worth of logs, and every other one had mentioned this telepathic bond between himself and Da'Nela Tharn. He wondered idly what she had been hiding from him. In the last few months of entries, that had been the most frequent thing he mentioned - the fact that she was keeping something from him. And he knew that even now, even though he still had no memory of her, he had to know what that something was.

He turned his head as the door to the Mess Hall in the Infirmary opened, saw her enter. As her eyes scanned the busy room for him, he caught his breath. Those eyes… so pretty, and yet so bereft of feeling. As cold and hard as stone. Somehow he knew that they should not be that way. How? She spotted him, and a smile of recognition crossed her face. It was an echo of a smile that betrayed the fact that she was as nervous as he was.

"Hey." He greeted her quietly.

"Captain Tucker." She nodded formally to him.

"Have a seat? Can I get you a drink?"

"I'll have whatever you're having." She replied, sliding into the seat opposite him. Trip went to the replicators and moments later returned with two steaming mugs of coffee. As she caught the scent, Da'Nela smiled. "Coffee?"

"Yeah," Trip replied uncertainly. "That okay?"

Da'Nela nodded, smiling as she remembered a moment in another Mess Hall when she had had her first taste of coffee. The two of them had been sat in Enterprise's Mess Hall after Trip, with a little help from Doctor Phlox, had saved her life. Now, she supposed, that particular debt had been repaid. The silence between them now was both awkward and cold, two strangers sat at a table, not knowing what to say to one another. She gazed down into the tan coloured liquid and sighed.

"How are ya?" He asked gently. "I wanted to thank ya, for savin' my life."

"My debt is repaid." She answered cryptically, but Trip knew what she was talking about - Jon and Malcolm had both told him of the time he had searched for Da'Nela when she lay face down in a lake, seriously injured and bleeding to death.

"Well, thanks anyways." He sighed too, and then she looked up at him, concerned, her green eyes boring deep into his. He grasped the moment and plunged in. "There were some things I wanted ta ask ya."

"Go right ahead." She replied immediately, the first spark of enthusiasm he had seen from her.

"I keep being told all sortsa things about… well about us, an' I wanna know what's true an' what isn't."

"Then perhaps I should start at the beginning?" She took his silence as an affirmation, drank a little of the coffee and sighed. "When you first met me, I was Colonel Da'Nela Tharn - which means Shining Claw - leader of the eight contingents of the FireWolf clan and a Knight of the Larneian order. Two of my contingents had been dispatched to halt the advance of a column of IceFalcon Troops…"

Trip drank in the information she fed him like a sponge soaks up water. While she spoke, everything else faded away. They went through so much coffee that morning that Trip doubted he'd be able to sleep at all that night. Da'Nela had a dry wit that frequently made him laugh, she was frank and honest about everything, including her own mistakes, which gave him no reason to doubt her. And as she came to the most poignant moments of her story, tears touched her eyes, and Trip found himself longing to comfort her. But as things stood, he wasn't entirely sure if it would be appropriate and so he held back.

"Trip… just before you left Larnei, I gave you something…"

At these words, Trip's hand went instinctively to the chain around his neck, to the bauble that he'd had for so long now, but how long he couldn't be sure. He knew it meant a lot to him - so much that he'd kept it a secret from everyone because he hadn't wanted to share it - and yet he couldn't place where he'd got it from. Strange…

"That's it." She smiled, a true and radiant smile that lit up her entire face. Trip looked from the gold ring set with a diamond, heart-shaped stone to Da'Nela. Had she really given this to him as a token of her love? And somehow that reminded him of what he'd really wanted to ask her.

"I read in my logs that… well, after I left, I felt that ya were hidin' something from me whenever we touched minds… what was it?"

Da'Nela hung her head, ashamed that she had caused him so much pain. The offence in his tone had been strong, and he couldn't even remember it. But now, at last, the time had clearly come to show him exactly what she had been hiding. But she refused to tell him then, instead going out and making a call. She waited with him for an hour in his room, patiently answering the questions he still threw at her occasionally. And finally, when she saw a familiar face at the window set into the door, she beckoned him inside saying "Trip, this is who I kept from you for all those months. I'd like you to meet your son."


	12. Ru'Hann

**Chapter Twelve : Ru'Hann**

Trip looked at the figure who at just walked in through the door and felt his jaw drop. It was like staring at himself in Larneian form! The man - could he really be only fifteen? - stared back at him, and Trip found himself wondering what the young man thought of him. Trip couldn't get over it, he was staring at someone of the same height and build as himself. Okay, so the blonde streak was quirky, but it exactly matched the colour of his own hair, as did the colour of his eyes. The size and position of the eyes was Da'Nela's, the nose too, and of course the jet-black skin. Trip found himself smiling. He was a father!

Ru'Hann, so nervous about this first encounter, stepped forward and offered his hand to his father. As Trip had found, Ru'Hann was staring at an older version of himself. It was quite unnerving. But Ru'Hann trusted him on sight, though he wasn't sure why. Perhaps it was something in the way Trip looked at him, perhaps it was the firm yet gentle handshake. It didn't matter. The Larneian smiled.

"Hello father." He offered softly.

"Call me Dad." Trip retorted, teasing and smiling. "Welcome to Earth, son." He embraced his son like a father should… and doubled up as a spasm of pain shot through him from feet to his head, centring behind his eyes, making him claw at his face. Ru'Hann clutched him, lowering him to the ground as Trip fitted there.

Da'Nela immediately put a call through for a medical team, then went to Trip's side, but in a cloud of consternation, not knowing what to do. Mother and daughter looked at one another helplessly, withdrawing as Doctor Phlox charged through the doors with a medical team.

"He's sleeping now." Phlox told them the gathered group gently. "But I cannot find the cause of the pain that he's suffering."

"Isn't it obvious?" Da'Nela snapped. "Varani's doing this."

"There is no evidence to support your theory." T'Pol returned swiftly and smoothly.

"There's no evidence to refute it either." Ru'Hann retorted quietly. He was still shaking. All his father had wanted was to give him a hug, what had he done to cause Trip so much pain? Time and again his mother had told him that it was just a coincidence, that he hadn't done anything, but Ru'Hann had felt it too, felt that subtle, intangible snap just before Trip had collapsed into his fit. "I felt it… when Trip touched me, something happened. It was like someone flicked a switch or opened a latch…"

There was silence at this. Da'Nela gripped her son's shoulder tightly, worried by his shaking, maternal instinct over-riding even her worry for Trip. She knelt beside his chair and hugged him. He sighed heavily, and she knew he was fighting tears. She willed him silently not to blame himself, but knew that if he insisted on doing so, nothing she could say would prevent it. Jon and T'Pol exchanged bemused glances, but neither had the heart to question Ru'Hann further. He was suffering enough already. Doctor Phlox frowned to himself, wondering what Ru'Hann's claim could mean, and then went to check on his patient.

Hours later, Da'Nela and Ru'Hann were permitted to sit with Trip. No longer sedated, Captain Tucker was sleeping naturally. Ru'Hann was sat on his chair, avidly watching his father's face for signs of movement, and he had a hand laid absently upon Trip's bare forearm. Da'Nela was sat beside her son, but had no contact with either man. It was only when Ru'Hann glanced up at her that she reached to take his hand in hers…

An inexplicable sensation washed through her. It was like being forcefully dragged into a dream, slightly nauseating, like floating… Her body dropped to the floor, Ru'Hann staring at her, horrified. But her mind was racing back through fifteen years, picking out random flashes of thoughts and images, mostly of Trip and Ru'Hann. Back beyond the point in time where the bond had broken. The rush of time slowed, focusing on every moment that Trip and Da'Nela had thought of one another, had spent time together, finally stopping in a point of darkness when Da'Nela herself had been unconscious, when the bond had first formed.

And once again, almost in hyper-sensitive slow motion, Da'Nela relived the end of the Larneian war during which she had met and fallen in love with the human Commander Trip Tucker. She saw him for the first time, dirty and hurting because of the loss of his comrade. She watched him during the funeral they had given Crewman Leighton, watched the single tear fall for his friend. She felt his arms encase her as she cried at the loss of her father, saw the joy on his face when he had fixed his Universal Translator and could talk with her again. Felt the warmth and comfort of being bonded with him, knowing his every thought, of knowing that this was meant to be. Feeling the pain and anguish at his leaving, because she would never see him again. Hiding from him the knowledge of her pregnancy because she did not want him to feel honour-bound to return to her, because she wanted him to be free.

But the best thing was that Da'Nela knew that Trip was reliving it too.

He was there, still sleeping, still unaware of her, but he was there. Da'Nela refused to open her eyes, instead relishing in the fact that she was whole once more. But someone was calling her, and she knew that she had to respond.

"Representative?"

"I'm here." She mumbled, trying to stretch her arms. They responded sluggishly, but the feeling of being dissociated from her body was fading, and her motor functions were returning to their normal efficiency.

"I'm sorry." Ru'Hann stammered, and Da'Nela's eyes snapped opened then. "I never meant to hurt you… or Captain Tucker…"

Da'Nela's eyes focused on his, she took his hand in hers and smiled. "You didn't hurt me, and it was Varani's fault that Trip was hurt. I understand it all now." And this time, Ru'Hann believed her. She could see it in his eyes. She turned her attention to Doctor Phlox. "You had to sedate him again, didn't you?"

"I did indeed, Representative, how could you…?"

"Know that? His mind rests as well as his body, Doctor. That's how I know."

And from that simple statement, everyone smiled, even T'Pol.

Da'Nela, now sat up and fully alert with one tendril of thought always monitoring Trip's condition, launched herself into an explanation. When Varani had set them loose into their own reality, she had imposed upon Trip a barrier that would prevent him ever remembering Da'Nela and her people, designed to resist any attempt made by Da'Nela to break through it. But what she hadn't bet upon was Ru'Hann. The Keeper had either never acknowledged the presence of the son of Trip and Da'Nela, or Da'Nela's guards had been strong enough to defend that information. When Ru'Hann and Trip had first met, the touch of one so like Da'Nela should not have broken the barrier, but because Ru'Hann was the product of Da'Nela *and* Trip, it was as Ru'Hann had described - he had opened the floodgates and let Trip once more remember the Larneians.

"When you touched us both, it was like completing a circuit. The energy flowed between us - all along you have been the catalyst to reform the bond." She finished softly. "I always knew there was a reason for your coming."

Ru'Hann, smiling coyly, simply moved forward to embrace his mother. She looked happier than he had ever known her, her eyes were bright and focused, and there was no distance there anymore. Everything was right in her world again. As for himself, he looked forward to getting to know his father.

She could feel his mind stirring even before he opened his eyes. Da'Nela reached out to him, wrapping each new thought in blankets of her own. Embraced the consciousness rising within him into her own. It felt so *good* to have him there once more. She had never realised until that moment, as he acknowledged and welcomed her presence, just how incomplete she had been without him. Trip's response was delicious, a mental stretch to shake out the cobwebs of his months in isolation, followed by an embrace so intense, so powerful that it made Da'Nela gasp aloud.

"Is everything alright?" Jon asked urgently, scared by the sudden sound.

"He's coming round." She smiled at the Admiral. Archer sighed his relief, swearing to himself that after the last few months his nerves were completely shot and he would never recover.

And sure enough, a few minutes later, Captain Trip Tucker awoke, feeling refreshed and without pain but best of all the terrible loneliness that had plagued him for fifteen years was gone. A wordless smile passed between himself and the woman he loved still, the woman who had risked her life and everything she possessed to save his life. He turned his head a little to grin at his son - well there was something, he was a father! - and then his best friend. He tried to think of some appropriately funny quip, but nothing came to mind. It did not matter. Jon's face told him everything he needed to know. T'Pol, ever steady, ever reliable, never smiling T'Pol… except today. The Vulcan was smiling broadly, and… was that a tear? Trip decided that he'd been out of it far too long - his mind was still playing tricks on him.

**Ya know, I never realised how much I missed ya…** He offered to Da'Nela, telepathically, his eyes meeting and holding her gaze.

**Re eva da, Trip Tucker.** She responded softly, smiling.

**I love ya too.** He replied.


	13. Epilogue

**Chapter Thirteen : Epilogue**

"Ambassador Tharn?"

Da'Nela looked up from the PADD's she was reading as someone entered her office. She smiled. "Malcolm. All set?" Captain Reed was due to leave Earth aboard the Enterprise in a few hours, bound for Larnei.

"You're sure you don't want to come with us?" Malcolm smiled just a little.

"I'm sure." There was no hesitation. She would be staying on Earth with Trip, as the Larneian ambassador to both Earth and Vulcan. Da'Nela had let him walk away once - she refused to be so foolish as to make the same mistake twice. The Oracle had once asked her if she was prepared to give up everything she had… and the answer was yes. The only thing that bothered her was that Ru'Hann would be returning home. He had spent six months on Earth, learning more and more about his father and his human heritage, but the boy missed the castle and his friends. And so for a while at least, he would be returning to Larnei as project leader for the installation of subspace communications technology which would allow them to communicate frequently, and also the building of a new fleet of ships that could run to at least Warp Five. Trip, having thought hard about his career, had decided to give up his position aboard the Lupus, instead focusing on his plans for the Warp Nine engine. Starfleet had been more than happy to oblige one of their longest serving officers.

"Then we'll be leaving at eighteen hundred hours." Malcolm responded. "I've been trying to get hold of Ru'Hann to let him know, I thought he might be here with you."

"He's with his father." Da'Nela replied, shaking her head. "He knows when he has to report on board though."

"Good." Malcolm replied. He stepped forward, offering a hand. Da'Nela shook it, smiling. "Guess I'll see you in a few months."

"I look forward to it." She replied.

Da'Nela sighed heavily as Ru'Hann walked through the airlock and was gone. She stepped back into Trip's waiting arms, glad that she was not alone at this moment in time. She would miss her son terribly, but in six weeks time, the subspace relays would be up and running… Trip kissed the nape of her neck gently.

**Six weeks isn't that long ya know.**

**I know.** She turned in his arms, kissed him softly on the mouth. **Let's go home.**

And, with arms around one another, Captain Trip Tucker and Ambassador Da'Nela Tharn strolled from the airlock to the transporter room, pausing only to watch Enterprise pull out of space dock. It seemed so right to both of them that after fifteen long years, they were together again - body, mind and soul.

THE END

A/N : Okay - cheesy ending but I couldn't think of anything else! Erm, I keep wondering who this story is dedicated to. I guess it has to be for my parents, because they found out about my writing just before I started this story and have been absolute stars and very supportive, so there ya go Mum and Dad - this one's for you!


End file.
